


Warlock saunters vaguely through life

by nighttime_stars



Series: Warlock saunters vaguely into their lives [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Family Drama, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Parents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Separations, Teenage Drama, evil plan to end the world for the second time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighttime_stars/pseuds/nighttime_stars
Summary: Five years after the almost-pocalypse, and Warlock is mostly happy with his life (and even the bits he ain't content with he can deal for another couple of years until he can escape to university). He has dealt with angels and demons, burning cars, a world almost ending, and his exams. However, a shocking revelation forces Warlock to face something he's been ignoring - his weird family situation.Meanwhile, heaven and hell still want their war and are prepared to do anything to get it.[Updates every Sunday]
Relationships: (pre-relationship), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young
Series: Warlock saunters vaguely into their lives [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1461205
Comments: 139
Kudos: 319





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And it's finally here! YAY! This was so fun to write, though it was hard at times considering this is the longest whole work I've written to date. I really hope you like it and enjoy the ending of this series!
> 
> Kudos to @ineffablelawr on tumblr who beta read the entire thing. Thank you so much!!
> 
> This work is completed (that's why it took me so long) and has eight chapters that will be uploaded every Sunday. I wish I could do it more often but unfortunately, it would be too much of a hassle for me to upload during the week. However, the whole thing will be on here within two months.
> 
> Thank you!

The five years after the non-apocalypse passed quickly and peacefully.

And Warlock really didn't want anything to change.

In school, he had very few friends - really they were more acquaintances than friends - other quiet people he sat with in the library and the computer suite because everyone knew that they wouldn't disturb each other. Warlock wasn't even a hundred per cent certain on all their names.

After his last GCSE exam, he went straight home. It was physics and Warlock was pretty sure he lost all the marks except on the parts about Space, as Crowley had helped him revise that topic. There was talk about a party that all his year was invited to, but it felt presumptive to assume he was a part of that group.

The tube had become part of his everyday routine: headphones in, head down and praying that it wasn't crammed (though it usually was).

There was a well-done-on-your-exams cake waiting when he arrived home. Crowley and Aziraphale stood proudly behind the table with the cake on it. Smiling, Warlock walked over and gave them a hug. Neither of them really understood human school though they celebrated each achievement and somehow cake became a part of it.

Aziraphale began to plate some slices of cake while Crowley turned to him and asked, "How was school, dear?"

"S'alright," Warlock replied. "Hated the test but my physics teacher gave us sweets afterwards. I think she pitied us."

Crowley laughed and Warlock continued with descriptions of his classmates' looks of despair. Aziraphale chimed in with "Oh those poor dears. Were exams one of mine or yours?"

Leaning back in his chair as he thought, Crowley eventually said, "I can't remember. I think I did it but it could have been a favour."

"I swear," Warlock said, "if you didn't give me cake, I would be really annoyed right now."

**

Later that evening, Warlock laid on his bed on his phone. Somehow, he had become friends with Adam and his lot. Not so much Wensleydale and Brian (Warlock did get Wensleydale's help with physics as well though it didn't pay off). He spoke a bit with Adam who really liked plants, and Warlock had grown up in Crowley's garden so they had some common ground.

Mostly, Warlock messaged Pepper. They both did ICT as a hobby and as a GCSE (Brian also did the exam but only because he thought it would be easy). Pepper was also into social justice and Warlock knew the best way to be heard in both Britain and America through his father’s complaints.

(They also both liked romantic comedies and were too ashamed to admit it to anyone else)

 **Is Adam still prepping for the party?** Warlock sent Pepper after their rants about exams died off.

 _Of course. Been planning this since his fifteenth._ Warlock can feel Pepper rolling her eyes. _He's even made a truce with Johnson because he can get drinks for the after-party._

**That's dedication. How's he hiding it from his parents?**

_Convinced Anathema it’s a rite of passage. She's going to distract all the adults including your parents after the barbecue so we can go to the treehouse._

**Sounds fun.** And it really did. Since his eleventh birthday, it had become a tradition to throw a joint party with Adam. His parents were usually abroad so they travelled to Tadfield for roughly a week.

_To you maybe. Adam’s been setting up rubbish bags and threatening to fight anyone who litters in his woods._

**Haha so glad I don't help plan these things**

_Wish you did,_ Pepper quickly replied before sending another message, _it's annoying that you can't come during Christmas or Easter_

**I know. Two more years and then I don't have to go back to my parents’ house.**

_Only two years. Can't believe we're all growing up._ Pepper sent.

Yeah, neither could he. Growing up was a surreal thing. Changes happened without you noticing; he doesn't know when the last time he called Crowley Nanny was. He remembered being teased for having servants and stopped referring to Nanny in school. And then, it bled into his home life. Warlock wasn't sure if Crowley noticed because he never said anything, but it made Warlock a little sad thinking about it.

**I know. Think Adam will mature once we turn 16?**

_Nope. Still be thinking he's the centre of the universe till someone knocks him down a couple of pegs_

Warlock laughed aloud at that. Adam was regularly self-centred, but he meant well most of the time. Once, when they were thirteen, he didn't talk to Warlock for weeks after he couldn't come over for Christmas despite him explaining why. It took Pepper hitting him for Adam to apologise.

The year after, Adam posted a book about coding to the Dowling house. Warlock still wasn't sure how he got that address.

Before he could reply to Pepper, she messaged again that her mum needed her so she'd talk tomorrow. It was only ten so Warlock doodled in his notebook a bit; he could do rough sketches of a variety of plants and flowers without thinking. For his art GCSE, most of his coursework had been based around plants because he could use Crowley's garden as a source. A few years ago, Crowley had expanded to a greenhouse on the roof (which Warlock was pretty sure was closed off to tenants) and it was so beautiful and full of lush plants in there.

It was definitely one of Warlock's favourite places.

A couple of weeks later (most of it was spent catching up on sleep), Warlock packed for their trip to Tadfield. Technically, he wasn't a military kid like the others he grew up with who moved every few years. But, on the other hand, as a diplomat's son, he went on more short-haul trips so packing was a breeze.

Going through his mental list, he packed his clothes effectively so he could take his tablet and laptop. He knew Aziraphale would be taking enough books for the week so he didn't have to worry about that.

Suitcase ready and his phone on charge for the car journey, he went up to the roof. He passed Aziraphale prepping packed lunches in the kitchen: most likely simple sandwiches if he was trying to make something without magic.

It was a rare clear day and Warlock could see miles of the city all around from the rooftop however he couldn't hear the busy streets. Apparently, plants needed a calm, clean atmosphere (even though they were already in a greenhouse) so the roof was quiet and smelled of clean air and not the usual scent of exhaust fumes.

Pushing open the door to the greenhouse, Warlock was met with a warm wall of humidity. Crowley stood over some vibrant green ferns with his water sprayer, inspecting for any damage and threatening them.

"You all better grow well when I'm away," he said as the leaves trembled. "or you'll know what'll happen. I don't think any of you can survive a fall from a roof."

Warlock gently stroked a shaking leaf and it stopped trembling. As if communicating with the others, all the plants went still and Crowley turned to glare at him. "You and Aziraphale are way too nice to them."

"Yeah," Warlock said, "We're the ones who are too nice."

Crowley waved the spray bottle at him before giving the plants one last glare. Walking out of the greenhouse, Crowley asked, "Are you ready to go?"

To be honest, his stomach was turning. Each year, it was terrifying to be celebrating his birthday with people he only saw once a year and only knew because he was standing in the background when the world nearly ended.

"Yep, can't wait," Warlock said. He must have sounded convincing because Crowley told him to put his stuff in the car before going to find Aziraphale.

**

They stayed in the same rented cottage every year that was always empty despite it being the height of summer. Like the flat, it was a lot smaller than the house he grew up in, but Warlock preferred it. Every floorboard creaked and the chairs felt like they would collapse whenever someone sat on them but it was never empty.

Unsurprisingly, they arrived before lunchtime because of Crowley's driving, so they had the sandwiches at the cottage. Warlock had several messages from Pepper demanding he come into the woods as soon as possible because Adam is getting stressy about the party and someone needs to distract him.

Leaving Aziraphale and Crowley to sort out the cottage, Warlock jumped the fence in the garden as it was the quickest route into the woods. He only came once a year, but he could walk this path with his eyes closed. It was cool beneath the shade of the trees, yet the light that filtered through made the whole area a nice golden hue. The air had a similar feel to the greenhouse: clean, fresh and the furthest thing from the city air.

The first thing he heard was Adam's voice. "Hang the paper chains evenly in the branches," he shouted. Warlock walked into the slight clearing in time to see Pepper glare at Adam. "Please," he added reluctantly at her look.

No one was really sure if Adam still had his powers, but Adam swung round to lock eyes with Warlock as if he just knew he was there.

"Warlock!" He shouted and smiled widely. However, Warlock's response was cut off when a weight slammed into the back of his knees. Stumbling forwards, Warlock stopped himself from falling as Dog continued to jump and bark at him. For some reason, Dog was always overly enthusiastic around him and no one else.

"Hey," Warlock said as Dog ran over and sat down at Adam's ankles. "How are you?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Adam said. "It's good you're here actually, you can help Wensleydale with the paper chains. He has no idea how to spread the colours evenly."

Looking over at the tree, Warlock could see what Adam meant. There was a large patch of red on one side of the tree, a couple of stands if blue next to it (where Wensleydale was precariously sitting) and other colours in a pile on the floor. If left to his own devices, all the colours would end up in distinct blocks which would just look weird. "Sure," Warlock said, "I'll save the tree."

"Thank you," Adam said earnestly. Suddenly, he shouted "Brian, no!" before running off to deal with another impending disaster.

On his way over, Warlock said hi to Pepper who was setting up some solar-powered garden lights. "We'll have to take some of that red down," he said to Wensleydale who was clambering down from the tree.

"Yeah," Wensleydale said sadly. He cleaned his glasses on his shirt and put them back on to stare at the paper chains. "I guess it would look better if they were mixed together."

"Yeah..." Warlock said as he studied the colours. "If you get back up in the tree, I'll pass them up and we can spread them out?"

"Sounds good," Wensleydale replied and he climbed the tree again. As they worked, they chatted mostly about the recent exams because that was the only common ground they had.

"How did your RE go?" Wensleydale asked. Warlock was grateful that they had quickly moved on from the physics paper.

"Alright I think," he said as he passed up a green chain. "But it didn't help that Aziraphale kept telling me about misprinted bible quotes. They were all I could remember in the exam."

"Oh, I read about some of those. I think my favourite was 'Thou shalt commit Adultery'."

Laughing, Warlock said, "Nah, 'the unrighteous shall inherit the Kingdom of God' is definitely the best one. It's amazing how these were so wrong with just little mistakes."

Finally finished with the tree (which now looked like an explosion of colour instead of a paint-by-number), Warlock realised that his stomach was growling. Brian and Pepper disappeared a while ago once they had finished their jobs and Wensleydale quickly left as well, claiming he was tired from scrambling around the tree. That just left him and Adam, who was trying to get Dog to stop playing with a scrap piece of paper that he was intent on tearing to bits.

"Dog, drop it!" Adam said. Warlock laughed as Dog ignored him. "Drop it," Adam continued sternly, "or no treats for dinner."

Dog dropped it and Adam looked at Warlock smugly. "I'm pretty sure he only stopped because you mentioned treats," Warlock said and Adam's expression faltered slightly.

No," he said stubbornly. "Dog understood the threat."

"Sure he did," Warlock said, filling his voice with sarcasm. "Well," he added, "I'm hungry so I'm going to ..."

"Come to mine," Adam interrupted. "My mum will be preparing dinner soon."

"Uh..." Warlock couldn't see a valid reason to refuse, except that being around the adult Youngs was weird, but he couldn't admit that to their son. "Sure," he said, "let me just message Crowley."

"Awesome," Adam said, and, as soon as Warlock put his phone back in his pocket, grabbed his arm and started dragging Warlock to his house.

*

Excluding all the supernatural elements, Warlock wondered if there was anyone else in a similar situation where the child was the one to know that they were adopted and not the adult.

He couldn't help thinking about it as Mrs Young pulled him into a hug and Mr Young gave him a firm handshake. Really, he looked nothing like Mrs Young who shared the same light hair and soft face with Adam, and the only similarity he had with Mr Young was the dark hair colour that his mum also had. Adam, though, did actually look like their son despite not being related.

The situation was strange and Warlock usually tried to ignore it, especially around his family because his father could not find out he wasn't biologically his.

It would be the straw that broke the camel's back; it would be all the excuse his father needed to disown him.

"Sit down," Mrs Young said, ushering Warlock and Adam to the dining table. "I'm making bangers and mash so I hope you're hungry."

"They're vegetarian by the way," Adam said to him.

"Yeah, that's fine," Warlock said. He knew that Adam went vegetarian a while back and that his parents followed his example. Anyway, you could never go wrong with sausages and potatoes.

Warlock could hear the sound of ceramic plates being set out and the kettle whistling in the kitchen. Despite his reservations, Warlock did love being in Adam's house. It was loud and full of life and reminded him of the times when he, Aziraphale and Crowley tried to make a new dish together (with varying degrees of success). It was also the furthest thing from the empty estate that he used to live in.

Once everyone was sat down and eating, Mr Young turned to him and asked, "So, what exams did you do Warlock?"

"Uh, ICT, RE and art," Warlock said, "plus English, maths and combined science of course."

"A good range," Mr Young said, meeting Warlock’s eyes as if he was genuinely interested, "Your parents must be proud."

"Yep," Warlock said, quickly shoving a forkful of mash into his mouth so he didn't have to say anymore. He was pretty sure his father's lecture on why he should do more useful subjects like politics or business lasted an hour when Warlock told him his chosen options.

Thankfully, Adam started talking about the party. He omitted the part about the truce and Johnson bringing alcohol but he waved his cutlery around as he spoke about all the decorations and the games they' were going to play in the woods.

"I'm thinking that we play games that we used to play as kids," Adam said, as though he never stopped playing those games. "Forty forty in is good in the dark..."

"How do you play?" Warlock asked.

Adam turned to look at him with wide eyes, "You've never played?" Adam said. Warlock looked away slightly from his shocked look. As a child, the only game he could remember playing was soccer (well football here, that was probably the only American thing about Warlock) when some of his mother's friends brought their children round. Names of games like 'bulldog' and '123 home' were suggested if he remembered correctly but soccer was the only thing they all knew so they didn't have to waste time explaining it. He never had regular friends to develop these kinds of games with.

"No..." Warlock eventually said, focused on the food in front of him as he cut the sausages into tiny, regular pieces. "I've never heard of it."

"That's fine," Adam said, his cheerful mood not at all affected. "You can be on my team and we’ll destroy the others."

"We never played in teams," Mrs Young added. "If you was IT, you had to do it alone."

"Well, in my version there’s teams and it's more fun when you have someone to work with."

"Okay dear, finish your food," Mrs Young said, gesturing to Adam's half full plate which he had been ignoring whenever he spoke.

They finished in relative silence and Warlock helped Mrs Young carry the plates into the kitchen as Adam took Dog out into the garden. "You're such a polite boy," she said, "not like the chaotic demon I raised." Warlock laughed though it was more at the fact that she didn't know how right she was. "Are you excited for the barbeque tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yeah," Warlock said. "Thank you for hosting it again. They're always brilliant. This will be the fifth one-- won't it?"

"Oh its no trouble," Mrs Young said, dismissing his praise with a wave of her hand. "I can't believe you're all growing up so fast. Soon, you'll be at university and then adults. First, it was Adam's sister and now Adam. Oh God," she paused and wiped her eyes, "I better stop before I start weeping."

Warlock scuffed his feet against the floor. "It's alright," he said, feeling like an intruder. Adam had told him late one night in a rare honest conversation that his older sister visited less and less and that it made his mother upset. In return, Warlock told him how his parents had been distant growing up and he disliked people like his sister, who selfishly took their parents' love for granted.

Adam didn't argue with him. He only said that he was glad Warlock was with Aziraphale and Crowley now.

"Go hang out with Adam," Mrs Young said as she shooed him out of the kitchen. "I'll get Arthur to help me."

Leaving her shouting for her husband, Warlock went into the garden where he found Adam laying on the recently-mowed grass with Dog. The sun was just setting, turning the sky red (Warlock hoped that meant the weather would be good tomorrow for their birthday). Sitting down next to him, Warlock saw that Adam's eyes were closed but he knew that Adam was aware that he was there. He waited in silence until Adam opened his eyes.

From his position sitting up, Warlock had to lean over slightly so he could make eye contact with Adam. "Are you going to stay there all night?" he asked.

"Maybe," Adam said with a smirk. Honestly, Warlock wouldn't be surprised if Adam actually did as he always seemed to belong more outside.

"In that case," Warlock said as he stood up, "I'll be heading back to sleep in a proper bed."

Adam groaned but scrambled quickly to his feet. "I'll walk you back," he said. There were grass stains all down his back and loose stands in his hair. Warlock tried to help by picking some of the pieces out but stopped quickly when he felt Adam still beneath his hand.

"You don't have to," Warlock said, feeling slightly guilty for disturbing him.

Adam waved him off. "I want to," he said, smiling brightly.

Adam took them along the main road instead of the through the woods even though it was longer. Surprisingly, Adam kept quiet (only interrupting occasionally to ask questions) when Warlock spent most of the walk talking about some new plants Crowley had gotten recently and how they were so pretty Warlock had already drawn them many times trying to capture them right.

Finally, they reached the cottage. Pausing at the gate to say goodbye, Warlock was shocked when Adam pulled him into a quick hug. Adam pulled away too soon for Warlock to hug him back and said, "You're so going to love your present tomorrow."

"I bet my present for you is better," Warlock said almost automatically as his brain was still processing the hug.

Adam laughed and said, "Doubt it," before running off.

When Warlock woke up the next morning, his memory of his conversation with Adam was crystal clear while the rest of the evening after that was a complete blur in his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

The Youngs has gone all out for their sixteenth birthday; there was a mountain of vegetarian-fake meat to be cooked (which Shadwell was glaring at) and an impressive spread of salads, rice and coleslaw. The decorations were similar to the ones in the woods and roughly twenty-five people (including an angel, a demon, a witch, a wannabe computer engineer, a former-seer, and some distant relatives of Adam) were milling around under the afternoon sun.

Well, technically, they were Warlock's relatives but no one could know that so he stuck close to Crowley to avoid them.

Aziraphale had gone off to talk with Madam Tracy and Shadwell. Warlock was pretty sure he had done this to annoy the Sergeant as Aziraphale looked smug when he looked between him and Crowley and muttered darkly under his breath.

Leaning against the fence, Warlock was happy to stay with Crowley for the entire party if he could. Usually, Crowley liked to cause some mischief at other gatherings but he appeared content with causing Adam's grandparents to glance at him with disgust and fear. Warlock probably looked just as suspicious with his long dark hair.

"I should tell her about your plants," Warlock eventually said as one of Adam's grandmas, who was wearing a floral dress and had a large daisy in her hat, cut her eyes at Crowley for the hundredth time.

Crowley huffed in slight laughter. "I'm sure that'll go down well. She seems like the type to spoil her plants."

So far, it had been a good sixteenth birthday. For breakfast, Aziraphale made crepes and then he and Crowley gave Warlock his gift. It was just some new games and drawing pencils but he could feel his throat close up before he could say thank you because they didn’t have to get him anything really. He hugged them both tightly instead so they still got the message.

All too soon, they had to go to the barbecue. The food, as always, was great — but Warlock felt out of place as he received some presents next to Adam from those who were at the end of the world in front of Adam's family. He couldn't help but wonder if Adam hated sticking to this tradition and would prefer to have his own party.

As the sun was finally setting, Warlock saw, from his place against the fence, Mrs Young slip into the kitchen. Adam noticed as well and jogged over to where Warlock was standing alone as Crowley had gone to annoy the grandparents by walking around with his arm over Aziraphale's shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Adam asked as he grabbed Warlock's arm to drag him into the crowd.

Warlock couldn't help but smile slightly as he replied, "Do I have much choice?"

"Nope," Adam said just as Mrs Young came back outside holding a cake with exactly sixteen lit candles. Adam had told him that Mrs Young had baked it herself and it looked great to Warlock. It was two single-tiered cakes, one shaped as a 1 and the other a 6, and they were covered in green fondant icing.

Around them everyone sang 'Happy Birthday' loudly. Warlock ducked his head under all the attention while Adam seemed to revel in it. When the song finished, by some unspoken agreement, Adam blew out the eight candles on the 1 cake as Warlock took the ones on the 6. Everyone cheered as if it was they hadn’t done the same massive feat every year. Despite that fact, Warlock still felt unbelievably happy as he blew out the candles.

Mrs Young cut the cake into equal pieces for all the guests. Slipping away as Adam was surrounded by his relatives, Warlock ended up eating his cake with Pepper.

"Having fun?" He asked her.

"Mmhmm," Pepper hummed as she tried to quickly swallow her piece of cake. "You?"

"Yeah it's been good," he said, picking at the last few crumbs on his napkin.

Pepper patted his shoulder, "Don't worry," she said, "we'll be leaving soon."

Just as she said that, Anathema started ushering the adults inside as Adam announced their plans to head into the woods. As Pepper dragged him towards the back fence, they passed Aziraphale and Crowley who gave them a knowing look.

"Have fun," Aziraphale said brightly as Crowley gave him a stern look.

"Don't do anything stupid," he said and then made his way inside with Aziraphale.

"Did you tell them?" Pepper asked. Thankfully, she didn't sound angry, only curious.

Warlock sighed, "No," he said, "I don't think we could have hidden it from them."

"Makes sense," she said as they joined the others at the fence. They all climbed over the fence and then walked into the woods to properly celebrate their birthday.

**

Greasy Johnson (Warlock thought he should stop calling him that), three of his friends and some other people from Adam's school were there when they arrived. Music was already playing from a couple of portable speakers and whoever was hooked up to them had good taste. Everyone looked comfortable with each other, even if there was some apparent tension between Johnson's and Adam's lot. That's when Warlock remembered that these people had probably been in the same schools since they were children. Warlock lingered behind the others as Adam walked towards the cluster of teenagers.

Everyone's attention was on Adam as he greeted them, "Glad you could all make it. Please help yourself to the drink but be ready to run if the neighbourhood watch shows up."

Laughing, they all split off into smaller groups. One of Johnson's friends went over to where a small table held the bottles and cans of alcohol; Warlock could see things like half-full bottles of Vodka and whiskey, many cans of cheap beer and cider, and mixers like coke and lemonade. Johnson's friend started distributing drinks to people as they came over. Warlock huffed in silent laughter as he spotted the paper cups for the spirits; Adam had really planned this out.

It wasn't long before it went dark and the garden lights switched on. They were small, like fairy lights, and did just enough that Warlock could recognise people if they were two inches away from him. A lot of people seemed fascinated that he was from London but Warlock felt annoyed as he was repeatedly asked the same question: "How on earth did you become friends with Adam and his lot?"

Most of the time, he laughed and pushed down the feeling of being an outsider. He said something along the lines of: "My guardians are friends with Anathema and like to visit her."

It was a good excuse because then people asked him about all things occult and he could have fun making up bullshit to fool those who were really drunk. Eventually, though, people were drunk enough that they started dancing and Warlock watched from the sidelines. He hadn't seen any of the four in a while so he sipped his drink (which was a very weak vodka and coke) and tried to not appear as awkward as he felt.

"Happy birthday," a gruff voice suddenly said. Warlock snapped his head to the side and saw that, at some point, Johnson had snuck up on him. Either Warlock was more lost in thought than he realised, or Johnson was a master sneaker despite being so big.

Warlock found it hard to ignore how much Johnson looked like his father; they had the same tall and wide build, similar facial structure and washed-out blue eyes. Honestly, Johnson looked more like his father's son than Warlock and it was disturbing to hear him speak with a strong British accent than an American one like his father.

"Happy birthday. Are you having fun?" Warlock replied, hoping that Johnson didn't see him jump out of his skin.

"Yep," he said. After a pause, he reluctantly said, "Adam knows how to throw a good party."

Warlock hummed in agreement.

"So, your parents know Anathema? Are they as weird as her?"

Warlock didn't know why Johnson was trying to make conversation with him, but it felt rude to try and ignore him, so he said, "They're not my parents but yeah, they're probably weirder than her."

"Oh, are you adopted?" Johnson asked. Warlock knew that, out of the three of them, Johnson was the only one who grew up knowing he was adopted. It was hard to decide whether he should feel jealous of that fact or not.

"No, not really. My parents just travel a lot and they thought it was better if I stay with some...uh, family friends and go to a local school in London." That sounded a lot better than 'my parents actually think I went to boarding school for the past five years but, really, my Nanny kind of kidnapped me instead.'

"Makes sense," Johnson said. He took a mouthful of beer and continued, "You know my mum recognised your surname, Dowling. Said your dad is some important American politician?"

To be honest, Warlock wasn't really sure what his father did other than go to a lot of meetings. He had tried to explain it several times over the years to Warlock to prepare for his imaginary career in the military or politics. "I guess he is," Warlock eventually said, "I don't really know what he does though."

Johnson nodded in understanding. "I get that," he said. "My mum is part of the local council and all it seems to be is meeting after meeting. I don't think they actually get anything done."

Laughing, Warlock realised that he was actually enjoying himself. Johnson told him about his tropical fish and, in return, Warlock described some of the plants in Crowley's greenhouse. Distracted by the conversation, he didn't notice someone approach until Adam cleared his throat right next to them.

"We're about to play forty forty in with teams of two," he said, once he had their attention. "Warlock, you're on my team."

"Sure..." Warlock said though it didn't sound like Adam was giving him much choice.

Johnson, on the other hand, seemed to be just as stubborn as Adam. "Are you being serious?" he asked, "Why do you want to play such a childish game now?"

"It'll be fun," Adam replied, meeting Johnson's stare head-on. "It's dark and everyone's pissed."

Scuffing his foot against the ground, Warlock waited as the two of them stood for what felt like forever in a silent stand-off. Warlock wasn't surprised when Johnson was the one to back down. "Okay," he said slowly, "I guess it'll be a laugh at least."

"Good," Adam said. "Mind getting people ready?"

Johnson nodded and walked off. Warlock watched as he spoke to his friends who then started organising people into groups of two. Everyone started shouting excitedly and grabbing their friends. Someone turned the music up. Through the chaos, Warlock spotted Pepper pair up with Wensleydale but he couldn't see Brian anywhere.

"Are you alright?" Adam asked. "Johnson wasn't being a dick or anything?"

Adam's gaze was intense as if he was looking for some invisible hurt. "He was actually being alright," Warlock said.

"Johnson's never nice," Adam huffed, but he dropped the subject as Johnson shouted over the crowd to explain the rules. Warlock learned nothing about the game except that the front of the tree was home, you couldn't escape and that Johnson and one of his friends were 'it'.

Therefore, he was unprepared when Johnson began to count down from twenty and the crowd scattered.

*

Adam grabbed his hand and dragged him through the woods. They weaved through the trees until they could no longer hear anyone else, at which point, Adam pulled them down so they were sitting behind a large bush.

"Ok so," Adam whispered, "these are the rules. At least one of us have to get back to the tree without being seen by those that are it. When we touch the tree say forty forty in and then we'll be safe. If one of the it people see us, then we race back to the tree and if they get there first, they'll say forty forty Adam and Warlock out and we'll be out until the game finishes and we start again with different people being it. Got it?"

Not really, Warlock thought. "So we just have to get back to the tree without being seen?"

"Pretty much," Adam said. "We'll wait until the crowd disappears because they'll be a lot of people trying to get in early and sneak in later."

"Wouldn't it make sense to sneak in early?" Warlock asked. That's what he would do: blend in as people made a mad dash because there's no way Johnson and his friend could name everyone in time.

Adam, though, shook his head. "Rarely ever works," he said. "And anyway, Johnson will be expecting me to try and be the first one to the tree."

That was probably true; anyone would expect Adam to be the one making the reckless charge to show off. Warlock believed that Adam could still succeed, but there was no point risking it if he didn't even want to.

"How long are we waiting for?" Warlock asked, looking at his watch that currently read eleven-thirty.

"Say..." Adam tilted his head from side to side, "ten minutes ish."

Honestly, this sounded like quite a dull game. In the distance, Warlock heard screams of excitement and Johnson shouting out names. Surprisingly, Adam seemed content to wait until the 'right moment' while Warlock was itching to do something.

After a few minutes, Adam spoke up again. "So," he said, "did you enjoy your birthday today?"

"Yeah, it was good." Warlock hesitated before ploughing on. "But it's weird, you know, being around people who I'm technically related to but don't know."

"What do you mean?" Adam said. He scrunched up his eyebrows and looked at Warlock. "You ain't related to them."

Now, Warlock was completely confused as well. The game went out of his mind as he tried to process what Adam just said. _Was he being serious?_ he thought _Or making a weird joke?_

"What..." Warlock finally said, "on earth are you on about? Don't you remember the whole baby swap thing?"

"Oh, you don't know," Adam said. "Sorry," and he smiled, "I just assumed you did."

"Knew what?" Warlock asked. He was getting sick of the way Adam kept talking as if it was some massive thing that everyone knew.

"When I... you know," Adam said cautiously in the face of Warlock's irritation, "disowned Satan I guess. Reality changed. I became Arthur's and Deirdre's actual son and you are the Downing's real son."

Warlock's mind ground to a halt as he tried to comprehend what Adam was saying. It felt as if reality had shifted (which, in a way, it had) and suddenly he could not be sure what was true or false. "Are you saying the Dowling's are my real parents?" At Adam's nod, Warlock continued, "and that you've known this for the past five years and just, what, forgot to tell me?"

Hesitantly, Adam nodded again.

Warlock released a harsh breath but tried to hold back his emotions so he at least understands the situation first. "And what about Johnson?" He asked. "He's still adopted?"

"Uh," Adam said, "I don't know? He could still be your parents' kid as well or just random abandoned child."

"You don't know."

"Look," Adam said, "I was eleven. I didn't think it through that much. Things just went the way I wanted them to go." Jutting out his chin, Adam asked, "Why does it matter anyway? Crowley and Aziraphale are your parents. We're your family. How does this make any difference? The Dowlings are still horrible people."

"Of course it makes a difference," Warlock said, though he realised he was now shouting. "And...they ain't that bad, my parents. They want what is best for me."

"No, they don't," Adam said in that dismissive way that he used when he thought he was right and wanted the argument to be over. "They want you to be the perfect miniature version of themselves that they can use to make themselves look better."

"You don't have the full picture," Warlock said but his voice was now very weak. He needed to leave as soon as possible and be alone somewhere quiet.

A squeal erupted from nearby and there was the sound of crunching leaves as someone ran past. Adam said, "It's probably a good time to make a run for it," as if he hadn't just dropped a massive bombshell that Warlock was still working through.

Warlock shook his head and got to his feet. His knees felt weak and he stumbled forward over a large root that he missed in the dark. Adam rushed to his feet and reached out a hand to help steady him, but Warlock evaded him. "I need to go home," he said.

Adam looked like he wanted to argue but he backed down when he saw Warlock's face. Warlock didn't even want to think about what he looked like: probably pale, drained and his eyes must be completely vacant. "Okay," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Warlock nodded absently even though he couldn't promise that and walked away. The shadowy figures of the trees felt like they were closing in on him and the leaves crunched sharply under his feet. This was not the same bright, welcoming woods that he was setting up the party in yesterday. Right now, it was more like a prison that he could not escape.

Without thinking, he kept walking in the direction he thought was the right one to the cottage. Errant thoughts raced through his mind, too quick to fully dwell on. The implications of what Adam has just revealed to him were too great.

In the crowd, Warlock had felt warm but now there was a chill seeping into his bones and making him shiver slightly. Thankfully, it wasn't long before he recognised the path to the cottage. It was hard to be sure in the dark, but it felt familiar. Eventually, he spotted the lights of the cottage. He jumped the fence, went through the back door and tried to sneak upstairs to his bedroom without Aziraphale or Crowley noticing.

Unfortunately, he forgot that they weren't normal. Most parents would have been lying in bed at two-thirty in the morning (asleep or not, depending on how protective they were) and would have checked that it was their child sneaking in and not a burglar and then checked on them in the morning.

Aziraphale and Crowley, on the other hand, were sitting in the living room and sharing a bottle of wine.

Warlock cursed his luck. He was in no state to talk at the moment.

Crowley spotted him first. "Did you have fun, dear?" he asked.

Warlock forced a smile. Yep," he said, "it was great." He then faked a yawn and said, "I think I'm going to head to bed."

They bought his act and said goodnight. Warlock pulled himself through his bedtime routine before laying down and planning to get a good sleep so he could deal with everything in the morning.

Sleep eluded him and he ended up fiddling on his tablet for a while before he felt drained enough to fall into a restless doze. It was afternoon when he woke up fully and went downstairs to have lunch. He was no less tired and in no way more prepared to deal with anything.

Crowley told him that Adam visited earlier. Warlock grunted in acknowledgement and said he talk to him later today.

He didn't. And, not the day after either.

However, Adam really was a master of getting what he wanted, and, on the third day, he told Crowley what happened. Warlock found himself sitting opposite Crowley in the living room while Aziraphale made tea.

Warlock swallowed nervously. This would be a hard conversation, but he had to find out the whole truth.

"Did you know?" He asked Crowley, meeting his eyes head-on. He waited anxiously for the answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley twisted his fingers together and sighed. "We had..." he said slowly, allowing Warlock to imagine the worst, "...theories. We couldn't be certain though. You have to understand that something like this had never happened before in the history of the world."

Warlock nodded. "What were your theories?" he asked.

"We suspected that Adam had given up his powers. But, seeing him grow, we think he still possesses them a little." Going off track, Crowley said, "Not enough to completely change reality but to control it slightly for his own gain." That was believable to Warlock. Adam always seemed in control, especially in Tadfield (though Warlock realised he couldn't say that for sure as he had never seen Adam anywhere else).

"Anyway, we weren't sure," Aziraphale said, walking into the room with a tray laden with tea and snacks. "Not until yesterday when Adam told us what happened at the party."

Warlock grimaced when Crowley shot him a look and added, "You should have told us."

"I know," Warlock said as he looked away at the floor. "Sorry."

"It's alright, dear," Crowley said.

The conversation descended into silence. Warlock sipped carefully at his tea. He wasn't fully sure how he felt about everything yet, it was all quite confusing. But, sitting there with Crowley and Aziraphale, he felt comfortable and at home.

Maybe this was his family and it didn't really matter who his biological parents actually were.

Crowley and Aziraphale were all he needed for parents.

*

Warlock avoided seeing the Them in person for the rest of the week, but he couldn't ignore his phone. Several messages had accumulated: fifteen from Adam asking what he did wrong and when could they talk; five from Wensleydale checking if he was alright, and three from Brian trying to find out what happened.

There was only one message from Pepper. Message me when you're ready

Warlock decided to talk to Pepper first.

 **Hey** he sent and then flopped down on his bed. His bedroom in the cottage was a similar size to the one in Crowley's flat, except he had a double bed here instead of a single and a desk practically right next to where he slept. The walls and floor were wood and looked a lot more rustic than Crowley’s flat which felt more sleek (in most rooms the sleekness was at war with Aziraphale's clutter of books and comfy chairs with blankets).

 _Finally_ Pepper sent back. _Boys are so stubborn._ Warlock sighed in relief. He could tell that she was not angry with him even though her response sounded hostile.

He quickly messaged back. **Definitely. Out of the two of us, I'm more stubborn**

She ignored his sarcasm. _Can I ring?_

Instead of replying, Warlock pressed the call button and waited for it to connect. "Hey," he said.

"Don't hey me," Pepper said, her voice sounded hard and unforgiving. "You can't just drop off the radar when you're staying nearby. I could have very easily walked over and forced you to talk to me."

Warlock laughed slightly, "Thank you for not coming to interrogate me."

"You’re welcome," Pepper said, "but it was close. Adam has been driving everyone crazy."

Tensing, Warlock couldn't think properly once Pepper brought up Adam. For the past few days, Warlock had been trying to push him from his mind, despite his thoughts' determination to betray and remind Warlock of Adam at several points during his self-isolation. Even though he had been forced to think about it, Warlock still hadn't decided whether he forgave Adam or not.

"What has he said?" Warlock asked, the question bubbling out of him without permission.

"He told us what happened. And I slapped him," Pepper said, straight to the point as always. "Though it wasn't as hard as I like because I was too hungover."

"So...you didn't know."

Pepper paused. "I did..." she said slowly. "But I thought you did too." Warlock opened his mouth to interrupt but, as if sensing this, Pepper continued in a rush, "I know it's no excuse and I'm sorry but no one spoke about it after Adam explained things all those years ago. I just assumed he told you as well."

"Yeah, okay," Warlock said and suddenly he felt exhausted. "It's fine. I ain't annoyed at you."

"And Adam? What about him?" Pepper asked.

"I...I don't know," Warlock said. "But I don't think I'll be seeing him before I leave. I don't think I can."

"Okay, that's understandable," Pepper easily replied but Warlock still felt some guilt bubbling in his gut. "Just make sure you say goodbye to me properly and remember our plan to dominate university."

"Of course," Warlock said. "I'll talk to you soon then."

Instead of saying goodbye, Pepper asked, "Are you sure you don't need to talk about the whole... family thing?"

“No," Warlock said. "I've come to terms with it pretty well. I've realised that it hasn't changed much. Crowley and Aziraphale are more parents than the Dowlings or the Youngs will ever be to me and that's all that matters." That was the conclusion he came to very quickly after his conversation with them the other day. They were his constant throughout his childhood. He belonged with them.

“That's good," Pepper said. "I'll see you soon then."

“See you soon," Warlock said and then hung up.

He quickly messaged Wensleydale, telling him that he felt fine and then told Brian to ask Pepper.

In the end, he briefly saw Pepper before he went home. They met in town, in front of the corner shop, while Wensleydale and Brian waited inside with Adam. The situation only reinforced Warlock's belief that he wasn't really part of their group and he felt ashamed that his anger at Adam was affecting the Them's friendship. Pepper had obviously chosen his side but Warlock hoped she remained closer to Adam than him because she had to live there while Warlock only passed through once a year.

Adam hadn't tried to talk to him again after his conversation with Pepper. Perhaps she had stopped him or he didn't actually care about Warlock and had simply given up.

Maybe everything will be better in a years time. He could try reconnecting with Adam over the phone acting as a buffer and their seventeenth could be more enjoyable.

Give it a year, Warlock thought, and everything will be back to normal.

He hoped so anyway.

*

Sixth form was slowly killing Warlock. His had a deal with his father: he could do fine art and computer science as long as he also did business studies.

Business was the thing slowly destroying him: the economics, the presentations and all the essays on what is the best business structure. His brain couldn’t comprehend such nonsense. (At least with art and coding, he had to freedom to do what he wanted and expand on ideas. But in business, Warlock had to write about how to be as ruthless as possible and get away with it.)

And, with the way things were going, he would not be getting the three good a-levels he needed to get into university.

The first term passed quickly enough and soon he was in his last art lesson before the Christmas holidays. There were five others in there with him: four had headphones in and the fifth was talking Warlock's ear off.

"So, from what I've heard," the girl said. Her name was Lily. Her hair was currently bright pink (over the past few months, it had also been blue, green and silver) and she was constantly covered in pen marks. From what Warlock had gathered, she was loud, loved art and really really enjoyed telling him all the gossip for some unknown reason.

Lily continued in a whisper as if the others could hear over their loud music, "Micheal made out with Amy at last week's party and so his girlfriend dumped him, right? But now they're talking again and everyone is saying they'll get back together, but I don't think they will because he's also been talking with Amy as well."

"Right," Warlock said, nodding along to her story. Honestly, he had lost track of who was who and learned nothing except that Michael was probably a prick.

"Are you doing much for Christmas?" Lily asked, turning back to her painting. She stroked her brush over the canvas with practised ease. Warlock was still sketching his out, trying to delay the painting stage as long as possible.

"No, not really. Just going back to my parents for the holidays," Warlock said. "You?"

Big dinner with my family like every year. It’s fun, but there's so much drama. Proper violent drama, not just passive aggressive stuff. Like, 'a couple years back my cousins got in a fight over the last few roast potatoes and one stabbed the other with a fork kinda drama."

"... Good luck," Warlock said, for lack of anything better. His Christmas dinners were small, yet formal, affairs as most of his extended family were in America. The conversation was terrible but the food was always amazing.

"Thanks," Lily said just as the bell went. Somehow, Warlock had lost track of time and he and Lily quickly packed away their stuff so they could escape for the two-week break.

Walking swiftly home, Warlock stuffed his hands in his pockets to protect them from the biting wind. That morning, there had been a light dusting of snow which had now turned into a depressing, grey sludge that seeped into his shoes. It wasn't a far walk usually but it felt like a marathon to Warlock as he trudged along with the crowd.

His mood was made worse by the fact that he knew what was waiting for him when he got home: packing. During school, he could push the thoughts about leaving to the back of his mind but now he had to face reality and accept that for the sixth Christmas in a row he would have to leave those he considered his family to keep up a ruse for his parents.

It was all quite complicated.

Pepper was the only one of the Them who still spoke to him. Warlock wasn't sure how long Adam would take to try and win him over again or if there was the possibility of it never happening. After all, he was the one who got angry (unreasonably to Adam) so would Warlock have to make the first move. Even if he did, would Adam even care if they became friends again or not?

Still, the months of silence were unusual which lead Warlock to believe that Adam truly did not care or he was planning something.

Opening the door to the flat, Warlock realised that it was empty. Crowley and Aziraphale were probably still at the bookshop, as they usually were on a school day. Warlock walked slowly into his room to start to pack meanwhile hoping that they would be back soon so they could spend the evening together.

His room had drastically changed over the last five years. At first, he was very careful to keep things in the right place, but he eventually relaxed and felt secure so the room became ordered chaos. There were books pulled on the shelf (and next to his bed), several drawings blu-tacked to the wall, and it was impossible to see any part of the desk under the schoolwork and computer equipment.

Warlock grabbed his duffel bag from his wardrobe and started getting some devices, drawing pads and pencils together. His mum always made sure that there were enough clothes for him when he got home so he didn't need anything like that, even though the clothes his mum chose were never in his style.

The thought of his mum made Warlock pause. Christmas would be slightly different this year because he now knew that they were his actual parents. He couldn't chalk up the massive gulf between them up to the fact that there was no actual relation.

No, they were his parents and Warlock felt guilty for trying to escape them for so many years.

Crowley and Aziraphale arrived home long after he finished packing. Crowley seemed tense; he kept pacing around as Aziraphale prepared dinner and tidied random objects away.

"Are you alright?" Warlock asked from where he sat at the dining table.

"Yeah," Crowley said, "Absolutely nothing’s wrong."

He was obviously lying but Warlock didn't pressure him further. He knew Crowley would tell him eventually and, if he didn't, Aziraphale would.

Aziraphale came back through with dinner and forced Crowley to stop pacing and sit down at the table. Warlock picked at his stir fry as the dinner started in tense silence as Aziraphale tried to subtly encourage Crowley with his eyes and obvious head nods towards Warlock.

Crowley sighed and sat up a bit straighter as he spoke to Warlock. Despite his earlier reluctance, he didn't hesitate as he said, "Dear, your parents have contacted us with some news."

"Okay..." Warlock said slowly.

"They want us," Crowley paused as he struggled to find the words. "They want us to tell you first so you're more reasonable when they discuss it with you in person."

Warlock nodded. That made sense, his parents always said he overreacted to everything and they would never to talk to him directly until he had already found out and calmed down about whatever it was.

Crowley seemed unable to continue so Aziraphale did. "Your father has been offered a new position at work. It would mean leaving England and moving to America."

Warlock froze and just stared at them both of them. "What?" he eventually managed to get out.

"They're going to offer you a choice," Crowley growled. "Continue with this arrangement or move with them. You won't have to worry about schooling, you'll just continue your studies with some tutors," he finished by trying to stab his noodles violently with his fork.

"Of course," Aziraphale said, shooting Crowley a look, "we want you to stay with us but the ultimate decision is yours.

Looking into his eyes, Crowley added, "You'll always be wanted here."

Warlock felt a sting of hurt that they honestly thought that he needed convincing to stay. "I ain't going anywhere,” he said. “Why would I want to?"

Crowley and Aziraphale smiled at him.

Warlock left the next afternoon with almost tearful goodbyes, though Crowley would deny everything. The driver picked him up and Warlock spent the journey sorting out his lies about school and preparing to tell his parents that he would rather stay in another country than go home with them.

It helped that London with Crowley and Aziraphale felt more like home than America.


	4. Chapter 4

The outside of the mansion was lavishly decorated; streams of fairy lights were placed on pillars in twinkling helixes that lit up the entranceway in the darkening twilight. A large wreath was hung on the door with vibrant, yet plastic, holly leaves and berries. Glow-in-the-dark snowflake stickers surrounded the wreath and the slight green glow added a probably unintentional, alien vibe.

Warlock could easily imagine his mum standing there and painstakingly placing each sticker because she trusted none of the servants to do it perfectly.

The thought brought a slight smile to Warlock's face as the driver opened the front door and closed it behind him. Alone in the foyer, Warlock admired the explosion of decorations. Things like this usually stressed his mum out as she tried to get everything right and ready in time, but Warlock knew the end result always satisfied her. This room's tree (because there was a least a small tree in every room) was real, unlike the wreath, and a healthy green colour. The branches had a light dusting of fake snow and it was full of bright red and gold baubles. More red and gold was added with each bit of tinsel laid on top of every picture frame that held all the formal family portraits.

"Warlock!" His mum called and Warlock looked up to find her dashing down the steps quite quickly considering she was wearing heels.

"Hey, mum," he said and hugged her back when she pulled him into her arms.

"Oh dear, you've gotten so tall recently." His mum busied herself by calling a servant to take his suitcase and fussing with his jumper.

Warlock had never noticed that he was relatively tall, he was around 5'8'' he thought. Crowley and Aziraphale had always been much taller and he was in the middle of the Them (he had a couple of inches on Pepper and was just taller than Wensleydale though Adam and Brian towered over everyone).

Now that he was thinking about his appearance, Warlock noticed how much he looked like his mother. They had the same sleek dark hair, brown eyes, pale skin and slim body structure. Even his mother's hands were long and thin like his, though covered in less graphite from pencils. He used to ignore the similarities or chalk it up to coincidence when he thought that she wasn't his actual mother.

Now that he was paying attention, the resemblance was uncanny.

"Okay," his mum said as she pulled off one more bit of fluff from his jumper, "Why don't you get ready for dinner and I'll go find your father."

"Is he actually in the country for once?" Warlock asked and his voice had a blend of light sarcasm and bitterness.

His mum chose to ignore the slight hostility and said, "Don't be cheeky. Just go get ready."

Hurrying away, probably to make sure his father was really still in the country, his mum left Warlock to wander up the two flights of stairs and into his old bedroom to put on some more formal clothes for dinner.

Every year, his mum insisted on updating his bedroom and wardrobe. Warlock wasn't sure how she got his measurements, but the clothes always fit well even if the formal attire was something he normally stayed away from. The bedroom, this year, had been transformed into a sleek, modern feel (last year it was more rustic) though the main pieces of furniture remained the same. The bed and the desk were against one wall, the walls were painted cream except one that also had black stripes, and the built-in wardrobe now had sliding doors with mirrors on them. There was also a small Christmas tree with some red tinsel on it. It wasn't bad; his mum had obviously put a lot of effort into it since Easter, but it did feel like a showroom.

Changing quickly into some trousers and a shirt, Warlock went back down into the dining room which was decked out similarly to the foyer except with a blue and silver colour theme. He was the first to arrive so he sat down at his place at the large table and took a small sip of water to calm his nerves.

It wasn't long before his father arrived with his mum following behind.

While Warlock really did look like his mother, he looked nothing like his father. His father’s hair was grey but it used to be brown and his eyes were a piercing blue that looked at Warlock with thinly-veiled disdain when he saw Warlock sitting at the table.

“Hello,” his father said.

“Hello,” Warlock replied.

That was their entire greeting.

His mum quickly ushered his father to his seat at the head of the table and called for the food to be served. She always went all out on Warlock’s first night back and got the cooks to make a three course meal.

Chattering on, his mum tried to fill the awkward silence and succeded until dessert (his favourite: cheesecake with strawberries).

“Have you decided about the move, Warlock?” His father eventually asked, his tone demanding and impatient. Warlock had been prepared all evening for it but it still caught him off guard.

The fork froze on the way to his mouth, “I’m not sure,” Warlock said, trying to be diplomatic. “May I have until the end of the holiday to decide?”

Avoiding looking at his father directly, Warlock watched out of the corner of his eye as his father nodded slightly. He wouldn’t try to convince him because, after all, it wouldn’t affect his job if Warlock came or not.

His mum, on the other hand, seemed to really want to convince Warlock to go with them. “Dear,” she said, sounding very much like Crowley. “If you’re enjoying boarding school, of course, we won’t make you go. But, surely, there’s a part of you that would prefer to live with your family.”

Warlock felt guilty that his mum knew so little about his life. “I’ll think about it. I promise.” His mum smiled softly at him as if that lie was enough.

Later that week, Warlock was lying in bed on the morning of Christmas and delaying getting up so he wasn’t roped into any last minute prep that his mum did before they opened presents. Blindly reaching out for his phone, Warlock grabbed it from the bedside table and squinted at the time. It was half seven and Warlock knew she would come to wake him up sometime before eight o'clock.

There was a message from Crowley (that he knew was also from Aziraphale even though he refused to learn how to text). It was a simple “Happy Christmas”. Crowley and Aziraphale, as far as Warlock knew, never celebrated Christmas. He wondered if they had had ever met Jesus Christ.

A knock sounded on the door, and Warlock quickly sat up as he called for her to come. His mum pushed open the door, wearing a carefully put together outfit: a red jumper, fitted black trousers and delicate Christmas tree earrings.

“Good morning,” his mum said, coming into the room. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said as he got out of bed to bed to give his mum a hug. He was careful to avoid the bundle in her hands because she would be annoyed if they had to be ironed again.

“Here you go,” she said, handing over the Christmas clothes. “Try to be ready for breakfast in about half an hour, okay?”

Warlock took the clothes and said “Okay.” as his mum quickly left. Like every year, his mum had got together some smart trousers and a red jumper for him so everyone could match.

Getting dressed slowly, Warlock prepared himself for the day ahead. It wasn’t usually that bad, if a bit awkward, but this year the dark cloud of the upcoming move would hang over their festivities. He went downstairs and forced a smile onto his face before entering the dining room for a full English breakfast (minus the black pudding because he hated that).

After breakfast, they went to the sitting room to open presents. His father left just before they started for an ‘unplanned emergency’ call (considering it happened at the same time every year, Warlock was pretty sure it was planned). But it didn’t matter, it was nicer to spend time with his mum alone without his father’s silent looming presence or passive aggressive remarks.

His gifts from his mum (they were addressed from both of his parents but it was really his mum who brought them) were… nice. He guessed which made him feel guilty for not loving them because she had obviously worked hard and spent a lot of money on him. The tablet was brand new and top-of-the-line and some of the designer clothes he could see himself wearing. It cost a lot of money and it made Warlock feel a little bit nauseous.

There was also a large suitcase, which was an obvious message as his mum looked at him hopefully when he opened it. Warlock said a quick ‘Thank you’ before pushing it to the side.

For the rest of the day, Warlock went through the motions without really engaging with anything that he did. He picked at the Christmas dinner, which was a shame because the cooks went all out on Christmas, trailed behind his parents when they took a walk around the grounds and then excused himself early to go to bed. 

There was a message from Pepper waiting from him. _Hey,_ it said. _Merry Christmas. You alright?_

**Merry Christmas. I’m good. You?** He was glad to hear from Pepper today but he felt bad for not thinking to message her first.

_Good._ It seemed a bit short for Pepper and Warlock deliberated whether he should send something else. As he was deciding whether to ask her about the food or presents, she sent another message that ripped the world from under his feet.

_Did you know Crowley and Aziraphale were coming to Tadfield for Christmas?_

*

Warlock’s fingers froze and hovered over his phone. No, he didn’t because they never did anything for Christmas. They flat out didn’t celebrate it. They didn’t get him anything, decorate or use the excuse to have a large meal.

Why would they change now?

**No, I didn’t** Warlock sent back and it hurt just to type it. **They must have forgotten to mention it**

_Yeah, must have. It’s a shame that you ain’t here either_

Painfully swallowing, Warlock contemplated just not replying. Over text, her words sounded empty. Did anyone really care whether he was there or not? He thought.

_Sorry, g2g_ Pepper sent, saving him from having to reply. Warlock flopped onto the bed and stared at his phone. Without thinking things through, he grabbed it and placed a call to Crowley.

Crowley answered the call quickly and said, “Warlock, what’s wrong?” He sounded worried and Warlock felt guilty for worrying him with this call as it was not that important.

“Uh, nothing,” Warlock said, “Just a bit bored. What are you up to?” he added, trying to make it sound natural.

“Ah, just went to Tadfield last minute. Adam invited us.”

There was a weird buzzing in Warlock’s ears as he processed the words. “Right.”

Was this some kind of revenge? A way to kick him out of the family? Crowley sounded very worried now, “Are you sure you’re alright, dear? Do you need us to come and get you?” There was a rustling sound as if he was getting up and putting a coat on already.

“No!” Warlock shouted. He couldn’t be responsible for dragging them away when they were celebrating. In a calmer voice, he said, “No, I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” Crowley said.

“I’m sure,” Warlock replied, not letting his voice waver one bit.

He hung up soon after that and spent the night lying in bed thinking things over. Biologically, he had family in America. Vague memories of smartly dressed old people hovered in the back of his mind: his grandparents who used to visit but got too old to make the journey. Warlock didn’t even know their names. He was pretty sure his mother had a sister in the American military so there was a possibility that he also had cousins.

And, in England, he had an angel and a demon who had mostly raised him in order to prevent the world from ending. Now, he was just holding them back because of some lingering sense of responsibility they still held.

He loved them, but it would be better for everyone if he just left.

Eventually, he dozed off into a restless sleep and woke up a couple of hours later. Having made his decision, he went to find his mum who was in the kitchen eating breakfast.

“Are you feeling alright, dear?” His mum asked and Warlock held back a sob.

“I want to move with you… I want to move back home.”

**

Warlock was a coward. He made his decision, was fully committed to it, but he couldn’t face the consequences. He convinced his mum that there was nothing important to him still in the flat (he forced all the computer equipment, sketchbooks, and other sentimental possessions out of his mind). Now, later that Boxing Day, he held his phone in his hands as he prepared to make the most difficult phone call of his life.

Hopefully, Crowley and Aziraphale would still be in Tadfield so he could ask them to tell everyone else for him. Adam wouldn’t care but he’d probably get an angry message from Pepper later.

He rang Crowley and, like yesterday, he picked up quickly. “Hey, Warlock dear,” he said.

“Uh, hi.” Warlock said. “Is Aziraphale with you?”

“Yes, we’re just in the cottage. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’ve, uh, just decided to…” Warlock’s sentence trailed away as the words got stuck in his throat.

“Decided to do what, dear?” Oh god, why did Crowley have to sound so caring? He was trying to do what was best for everyone.

Steeling himself, Warlock said, “I’ve decided to move to America with my parents.”

There was silence on the other end of the line which Warlock tried to fill with rambling as he attempted to explain his decision. “I know I said I wouldn’t but I think it would be better for everyone. I have family that I’ve never met over there and my mum seems to really miss me. And, uh, you and Aziraphale could have more time together because you don’t have to look after me…”

“Warlock,” Crowley interrupted. He sounded business-like and Warlock really wished he could see his face so he wasn’t left with the belief that Crowley was unaffected by this. “If you’re making this decision, make it for yourself.”

“I am.” Warlock said. “I need to go with my family. Just please… don’t follow me or contact me. Please.”

“Okay,” Crowley said. “Just remember that we’re always here for you dear”

“Okay,” Warlock said. This was it, he had said what he needed to say and now he could be done with the conversation.

“Do you want to talk to any of the others?”

No, he really didn’t. This was too painful already. “Uh, would you mind like…”

“Of course, dear. I hope to talk to you at some point.”

Holding back a sob, Warlock said, “Goodbye Nanny,” and hung up the phone.


	5. Chapter 5

He had a month of wandering around the gutted remains of the mansion. All the furniture was staying as it belonged to the military who owned the house but all of his mum’s decorations had been taken down, packed carefully and shipped across the Atlantic. Most of the servants had been given time off before the next diplomat moved in so the corridors were unusually quiet and some rooms had even been closed off completely.

During that time, he had ignored several messages from Pepper, which were all in capital letters and looked very angry. There was also a single message from Adam which just said: “Why?”

Warlock had debated whether to answer. Possible replies ranged from because of you to I don’t belong in Tadfield to I just found out that I’m actually related to these people and I have to catch up. But he didn’t send anything because, even though he was angry at Adam, it would be unfair to blame him for everything.

Because honestly, it was Warlock’s own fault. He shouldn’t have tried to distance himself from his biological family to try and have something that wasn’t his.

He was in the garden (which had been pest-free ever since Aziraphale left though the grass still wasn’t as green) when his mum found him. “Warlock,” she said, gingerly walking on the grass in her heels, “Are you ready to leave tomorrow?”

“Yep,” Warlock said, forcing some cheer into his voice. “What time are we leaving?”

“Early, around seven-ish to get to the airport so we can leave at the allotted time.”

“Okay, I’ll be heading in to get an early night then.” Warlock said.

“Okay, dear,” his mum said, her body hunched over slightly. After a second, she pulled herself up and shot Warlock a wobbly smile. “I’ll walk in with you.”

They walked in silence and parted with a quiet goodnight. Despite Warlock deciding to stay with her, there was still this massive gulf between them.

**

Guilt ate at Warlock as he sat down in the private plane. It was such a waste; so much fuel used to move three passengers, two pilots and some suitcases across the ocean. This made him think of the Them, who he could never admit the fact that his family used private planes too.

For the next nine hours, Warlock alternated between watching some TV and sleeping. His father was on the phone for most of the way, conducting meetings and ordering around his subordinates. Because she was terrified of flying, his mum took some sleeping tablets and passed out for the entire flight.

In his fingers, he held a pencil which he occasionally twirled around. There was paper in his bag so he could easily draw something, even if it was a simple doodle. Or, he could play games on his new tablet. But he didn’t. He felt very absolutely no motivation to do anything that he used to enjoy so much. He felt bored whenever he tried, which honestly terrified him.

So, he gave up.

Despite his lack of motivation, he fingers still itched to do something.

Finally, they landed and Warlock trailed behind his parents as they went through a secluded part of the airport and got into a car which apparently belonged to them. The drive to their new house in Washington was relatively short.

The house itself was very similar to the one in the UK: too large for the just the three of them (though Warlock guessed there would be servants there as well) with acres of gardens surrounding it. However, this time, there was a big area of woods bordering the left side of the property.

On the first night, Warlock slept on the floor of his new room, which was bigger than his last, on a blow-up bed. He woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and in a worse mood than usual. His father had already started work and his mum was busy with the movers who had arrived early that morning. Despite the jetlag and the achiness that came from sleeping on the floor, Warlock got dressed and put on a coat and boots. He went through the kitchen exit and headed straight for the forest.

It was unbelievably dark beneath the trees and weirdly silent. Perhaps it was because it was the start of February that there were no birds singing or anything scurrying in the bushes. The trees were bare and the mud squelched underneath his feet. Hands shoved into his pockets, Warlock walked around with no destination in mind and taking no note of any landmarks.

After all, who would care if he got lost and never came back?

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), the woods were not very large and, after a few hours of traipsing around, Warlock headed back to the house. He had just left the woods, walking now on the nicely trimmed grass, when he spotted a figure standing on the treeline, a few meters to the side of Warlock.

Hidden under many layers of dirty rags, Warlock could only make out the person’s hands and face. His skin was ashen and covered in what looked like boils which had a strange green tinge to them. His eyes were a washed-out grey and fixed intently on Warlock and, in his gnarled hands, the person held a watering can.

Warlock met the man’s eyes and tried not to let any of his wariness show. “Who are you?” he asked in what he hoped was a strong and demanding voice.

“Just the gardener,” the man said, holding up the watering can and waving it from side to side.

There was something familiar about this person, but Warlock could not place him anywhere. “Okay,” Warlock said and resolved to ask his mum as she would know about all the servants. He turned and walked back to the house as quickly as possible while trying to appear calm as he could because he could feel the gardener’s eyes burning into his back.

*

Warlock didn’t get a chance to speak to his mum for a couple of days as she was busy directing the movers around. Whenever he went up to her to ask, she would just demand to know if it was important first. Every time, Warlock muttered no and left because what if the person was really the gardener? His mum would get angry at the question and she was already stressed enough without Warlock acting paranoid.

Anyway, Warlock reasoned, his father worked closely with the government so all the servants probably had had extensive background checks.

Still, Warlock refused to go back into the forest, which meant he hung around the house. And with his lack of motivation to do anything really, he got bored quickly. His tutors came around every school day but he was slowly slipping in grades, especially as his coursework declined in quality due to inability to properly focus.

America was shaping up to be a poor decision, but Warlock couldn’t help but think that everything would have been worse if he stayed in England. He would have been a burden on Aziraphale and Crowley who Warlock was sure were enjoying eternity together without worrying about him and he still would have had no close friends since the Them obviously didn’t want him around.

The friend situation changed on his second week in America. His mum’s old friend who also used to live in England was also currently living here and (according to his mum) she “has a daughter just your age Warlock so you should try and become friends with her.” When they knocked on the door, his mum gestured for him to follow as she went to let them in.

His mum’s friend could have been her sister: her name was Charlotte and she had long, straight dark hair and wore a neat skirt and blouse combination which was probably a carefully chosen outfit. She greeted his mum with a kiss on each cheek and pulled Warlock into an unexpected hug.

“Oh, you were so little when I last saw you,” Charlotte said before following his mum into the sitting room. That left Warlock alone with her daughter.

“Hi,” the girl said. She looked nothing like her mother. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and she wore a football kit that had some old mud stains on it. “I’m Mary, apparently we were friends as kids but I don’t remember you.”

“Yeah, neither do I.” Warlock said. Mary seemed familiar but he had a lot of ‘friends’ growing up that he could honestly not remember. “I’m Warlock.”

“Cool.” Mary said, “Do you like want to hang outside? The woods look alright.” Warlock nodded as the forest couldn’t be that bad if he had another person with him.

Having noticed Mary’s British accent, Warlock asked, “How long have you been in America?”

Mary tilted her head from side to side as she thought. “Roughly three years…” she said uncertainly before continuing, “Yeah, that sounds right. My dad got the posting just after I turned thirteen. You’ve just moved, right?”

“Yeah,” Warlock said, slightly distracted as they entered the forest. It was as dark as the first time he went in despite it being midday. “My father was an American diplomat to the UK but he got a new job now.”

“Cool,” Mary said though she was probably just being polite. “My dad is an officer in the RAF. We’ll be moving back soon after my eighteenth so I can go to uni in England.”

Warlock nodded. He had stopped planning his future after he decided to move because his plans that he had made with Pepper to go to university and leave their parents were now null and void. But, that was still two years away so he’d be alright. Probably.

They chatted some more, mostly about the differences between American and British schools. Somehow, they ended up on the topic of friends and Warlock listened as Mary described the girls on her football (she refused to call it soccer) team.

“What about you?” She asked when she finished trying to explain to complex dynamics on the team - Warlock was just left very confused as she referred to everyone by their position and he knew very little about soccer.

“Er,” Warlock hesitated, unsure of how much to tell her. “You’re the only person my age I know here because I’m homeschooled.” He felt his shoulders tense as he hoped that Mary didn’t actually care enough to dig deeper.

Unfortunately, Mary didn’t sense his discomfort (or maybe she secretly wanted to make him suffer though, judging by her honest expression, Warlock doubted that was it). “What about in England?” She asked.

Warlock twisted his fingers around each other and avoided her gaze as he answered, “Kinda fell out with them before I left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mary said. “Can I ask how?”

God, how can I explain this, Warlock thought. “I found out that my friend had kept a very important secret from me. I got angry and he couldn’t see how what he had done was wrong so we just never spoke again.” Suddenly, it all came pouring out of Warlock. “That was back in the summer. He was kinda the leader of the friendship group and it didn’t help that I lived in London while everyone else lived in a village together. Occasionally, Pepper, who never listened to Adam unless she wanted to, would talk to me but that was it. Then I decided to move here because I had no real friends anymore and I thought maybe things would be better with my biological family and that I was just a burden on my guardians. Anyway,” Warlock swallowed harshly and forced himself to stop rambling about all his problems. He said, “I didn’t tell anyone that I was leaving so our relationship is probably irreparable and it's all my fault.”

Mary probably only understood a quarter of that explanation, but it was enough to look at Warlock with sympathy, “That sounds shit.”

“Yeah,” Warlock laughed, though it was bordering on a sob. “It does. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Mary said and she pulled Warlock into a tight hug. “I get some of it. When I moved here, I vowed that I would keep in contact with my friends and I have with a few of them. But, life happens. Most of my friends no longer put in any effort and forgot about me. It’s like that with most military kids I know. We get used to it and move on.”

Warlock understood what she was saying but he wasn’t a typically military kid. “But I didn’t want to move on. I wish I could take it back.”

“Then do it,” Mary said and she quickly went from hugging him to slapping him on the back. “Message them and make the first step. Your family stuff sounds complicated, but friends are easy. Just show them you care! Or, better yet, tell them because misunderstandings happen when people ain’t obvious.”

“You really think that’ll work?” Warlock couldn’t help but be slightly sceptical. It sounded too easy.

“Definitely,” Mary said. She stood up and offered her hand to Warlock, “Come on,” she said, “I’ll even help you draft the message.”

Warlock took her hand and got to his feet. On the way back to the house, he felt like he was walking on air as he joked around with Mary. However, as they left the forest, Warlock saw something that made his good mood evaporate.

Freezing in place, Warlock looked over to the driveway up to the house where the gardener was standing talking to a woman in a grey suit. Mary walked on a couple of steps before noticing that Warlock was no longer with her. She stopped and looked back at him and asked, “What’s wrong? You’ve gone grey.”

Warlock barely heard her words, too focussed on the two strange people that looked very familiar for some reason. He wasn’t certain but it seemed like the woman was watching the two of them. He was too far away to know for sure.

Grabbing Mary’s arm, he started walking twice as fast back to the house. Under his breath, he said, “Do those two people look off to you?”

Thankfully, Mary glanced over subtly. After a couple of moments, she said, “I guess together they look a bit weird. Who are they?”

“I don’t know,” Warlock said. “Apparently, the man is the gardener, but I never see him doing any work and I haven’t seen the other one before.”

“They could be spies or something,” Mary said as they reached the front door and went in. Warlock made sure the door was closed properly behind them and locked. “Anyway, I’m sure there’s nothing to really worry about. The security here is the best.”

Warlock wasn’t fully convinced but he decided not to push it. He would talk to his mum later definitely, even if she was busy.

“Come on,” Mary said. “Don’t think you’ve distracted me from our plan. Where’s your phone?”

Warlock smiled despite his stomach rolling at the thought of messaging one of the Them. Just as he was about to reply that it was upstairs, his mum rounded the corner, “There you are,” she said. “Charlotte is preparing to go soon so say bye to Mary.” She turned around again and left, probably to say goodbye to her friend.

“Dammit,” Mary groaned. “My mum has the worst timing.”

Warlock laughed slightly. “Maybe next time,” he said.

“Or you could message them tonight. I’ll add you on Snapchat and give you advice that way.”

“Maybe,” Warlock said. His mum and Charlotte entered the foyer and Warlock said to Mary, “I’ll talk to you later then.”

“In a bit,” Mary replied as she and her mum left.

Warlock’s mum clapped her hands together and said, “Right, how about some dinner?”

“Er, yeah.” Warlock said. “Can I ask a quick question?”

“Of course, dear,” his mum said, looking a little bit worriedly at Warlock’s hands where he was fiddling with his fingers.

“Who's the gardener?” he asked.

“Oh,” his mum paused and rubbed her hands together. “He had some weird Spanish-sounding name though he does not look Spanish. Hasta La Vista, or something?”

Warlock inhaled sharply and asked, “Wait, Hastur?”

His mum’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that was it.” Her smile dropped when she looked at Warlock’s face. “Are you alright, Warlock?”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to reassure her. Actually, his mind was racing as he tried to think of a way to protect himself while keeping his mum out of whatever was happening. “I just need to get my phone,” he said, turning to walk up the stairs.

He heard his mum mutter something about ‘kids and their technology’. When she left the foyer, Warlock started sprinting to his room. He flung open the bedroom door and lunged for the phone on his bed. I need Nanny he thought, reaching out to grab the phone but something seized him around the waist. He just had time to recognise the smell of sewage and the grey, peeling skin of the arm that held him before something hit his head and the world went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's technically still Sunday; I have to admit that it is evening though and I usually post in the morning so it's more than a few hours late. Apologise, just with everything's that's going on, I completely forgot what day of the week it even was : ) At least chapter is here now!!!

It took a long time for Warlock to wake up properly. Slowly, information started seeping into his semi-conscious brain: there was a strong antiseptic smell, the ground beneath him was hard and unyielding, and there was an annoyingly loud conversation coming from somewhere to the side of him.

Forcing himself to wake up, Warlock registered the sound of a door slamming shut just as he managed to open his eyes.

The bright light blinded him at first. Through the glare, Warlock eventually made out the outline of the harsh LED light above him. Despite his protesting body and the dizziness, he sat up so he was facing a heavy metal door. The walls and floor were a dirty off-white colour and, as he looked to the side, he saw a curtained-off area.

_I’ve been kidnapped,_ Warlock thought, incredulously. _I’ve been kidnapped by an actual demon._

For some reason, Warlock felt like laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“Oh good,” someone said from behind Warlock, “You’re awake.”

Warlock swung round and shouted, “What on earth are you doing here?” when he spotted Adam leaning casually against the back wall. He looked relaxed despite the cut on his lip and the large bruise around his eye.

“Same as you,” Adam said, completely calm, “Been kidnapped.”

“I got that,” Warlock snapped. “I meant why?”

Adam nodded towards the door and said, “They want one of us to start Armageddon. They didn’t know which one they needed to start the war so I guess they decided to take us both.”

Warlock tried to wrap his head around what was happening. “So,” he said, “Heaven and Hell and working together to start a war with each other.”

Adam laughed. “Yeah, I tried explaining that to Gabriel when he was just in here. Didn’t take it very well.”

Remembering the raised voices as he was waking up, Warlock nodded in agreement. “So, uh, what…” he trailed off as he looked at Adam. The realisation that they hadn’t spoken in months suddenly hit Warlock and he was unsure how to go forward.

“What?” Adam said and he came to sit down next to Warlock, which unfortunately made it harder to think.

“What do you think we should do?” he asked, focussing on a spot on the wall behind Adam. Out of the two of them, Adam would be more likely to have a plan for how to get out of this situation. Hopefully, that plan would include saving Warlock as well.

Warlock’s stomach dropped when Adam winced. “I don’t know,'' Adam said.

_Then we're doomed_ , Warlock thought.

Adam continued, “But, if we tell them that I’m the anti-Christ, then they would probably let you go.”

It was a plan but not one that Warlock wanted to hear. “Are you an idiot?” he asked, glaring at Adam. “Do you have any idea what they would do to you?”

Adam met his eyes stubbornly. “Yeah, but you’ll be safe.”

“No,” Warlock said.

“You can’t stop me, I could have done it when you were asleep, but I wanted to make sure you were alright first.”

Warlock ignored the second part because he needed to stay focused on the agreement at hand. “No, I can’t stop you,” he said, “but I can tell them I’m the anti-Christ as well. Then they'll be back to square one.”

“Dammit, fine,” Adam said and he threw himself down so he was laying on his back. “I’ll think of another plan.”

They sat in silence for a while. Eventually, Warlock felt the worst of the dizziness subside and he got up to investigate the small room. It was roughly twenty steps by twenty steps and there was a toilet and sink behind the curtain. Throughout Warlock’s investigation of their prison, Adam didn’t say a word and Warlock suspected that he may have fallen asleep as his eyes were closed.

He was proven wrong when there was a sound of metal sliding against metal and Adam jumped to his feet and grabbed Warlock’s arm. Warlock managed a surprised, “What?” as he was dragged behind Adam, but he fell silent as the door was pulled open.

A man with purple eyes and a smart suit entered the room. This time, there was no disguise ad Warlock instantly recognised him from the airfield: Gabriel, the archangel. And a massive prick.

He wasn’t alone. A large angel stood behind him in the doorway and Warlock didn’t think they could escape past him. He was twice Adam and Warlock’s size and had supernatural powers.

They had no chance, so Warlock focussed instead on Gabriel as he started speaking.

“Hi,” Gabriel said with a large, yet obviously fake, smile. “I hope the demons weren’t too rough when they brought you here.” He deliberately flicked his eyes over Adam’s bruises.

Adam returned his smile with a sharp edge and said, “Nope, they were as pleasant as angels.”

Gabriel’s facade dropped. He sneered and said, “Look, you brats. The quicker one of you confesses, the quicker one of you gets to go home.”

Involuntarily, Warlock laughed. “That’s like the most common lie to tell hostages. Really, its code for the quicker one of you confesses, the quicker the other one dies.”

Gabriel, Warlock realised, was a very good manipulator because he quickly changed tactics after his first strategy failed. Once again, he took on a sympathetic persona and took out what looked like a crystal ball from his pocket. “Warlock, son, just give you or Adam up. Either way, you get to go home,” he said, his voice very soft like he was talking to a scared kitten. “They miss you very much,” he added as the crystal ball began to grow and he was transported into Crowley’s flat.

**

It took a couple of seconds for Warlock to realise that he wasn’t actually in the flat. His body was partially transparent and Adam was still there holding his ghostly arm despite him also not being fully solid. Gabriel no longer stood next to them which Warlock was very thankful for.

“How long do you think I was asleep?” Warlock asked Adam. Like his body, his voice was faint as if it wasn’t fully there.

“Hard to tell,” Adam said, “Roughly a day I think because I had three meals.”

The clock on the mantle showed that the date was the day he was kidnapped, just after five. “This is probably yesterday then,” Warlock said just as the front door slammed open.

They both fell silent as Crowley stalked into the flat. With a wave of his hand, the door closed behind him, hard enough to make the walls tremble. Warlock noticed that the few plants they kept in the living room were trembling more violently than usual as Crowley grabbed the water sprayer and started inspecting each plant thoroughly.

Guilt gnawed at Warlock's gut. This is my fault, he thought as he watched on as Crowley viscously chewed out one of the plants hanging from the ceiling.

Soon, Aziraphale came home as well but much earlier than usual. He patted Crowley’s shoulder on the way through to the kitchen which seemed to make Crowley relax slightly. At least, he put down the water bottle and slumped down onto one of the comfy armchairs.

The kettle started whistling from the other room; Aziraphale was probably making tea or cocoa. It was a scene Warlock was familiar with, though everyone was usually much happier. Flinching, his ghostly form flickered, as there was a loud knock at the door. Crowley raised his head and glared at the door as if he was trying to force the person to go away without having to get up. Usually, that would have been enough but the knocking continued. Crowley growled and got up to fling open the door. From this angle, Warlock couldn’t see who it was but Crowley’s face darkened as he stepped back to let the person in.

Two people came through the door and Warlock recognised them instantly from the airfield five years ago: Gabriel and Beelzebub. There was also the large angel once again acting like a guard that remained in the doorway, blocking the exit.

Crowley glared at the angel and the demon. “To what do I owe the honour of having you visit?” he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

“We have come to inform you of current advancements in the Great Plan,” Beelzebub said just as Aziraphale came back into the room, not looking surprised at their guests.

“Gabriel. Beelzebub. Sandalphon ” Aziraphale greeted each one in turn coldly, “What advancements are you talking about?”

“Why,” Gabriel said, smiling wide and spreading his hands, “we’ve got the boys of course.”

Warlock had a feeling that Gabriel would have come very close to death when Crowley flung himself at him if it hadn’t been for Aziraphale. The angel placed his hand on Crowley’s shoulder and he stopped in his tracks.

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked, his voice cold with fury. Crowley was almost shaking as he tried to hold himself back.

“Soon,” Gabriel said, annoyingly smug, “one of those brats will confess and, since they’re at the age where teenage rebellion is more likely, we can finally get this war underway.”

“I will destroy you,” Crowley said.

“And, since we believe in forgiveness,” Gabriel continued as if he hadn’t heard the threat, “you may both chose to repent for your disobedience and return to your rightful sides.” He turned to Aziraphale and added, “Don’t you want to come back to where you belong?”

“Not really,” Aziraphale said immediately. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

“It’s your last chance too, Crowley,” Beelzebub said as if it was simply an obligation as they looked as if they couldn’t care less whether Crowley decided to go with them or not.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Crowley said, hissing out the last word.

Gabriel sighed in disappointment and he gestured for everyone to leave. They filed out; their suits made it look as if they were just leaving a business meeting.

Warlock was desperate to know what Crowley and Aziraphale were about to do. However, as the door closed behind Beelzebub, there was a tugging sensation in Warlock’s gut and he and Adam were pulled out of the vision.


	7. Chapter 7

Warlock’s knees nearly gave way when he could feel the solid floor beneath him but Adam’s hand around his arm stopped him from collapsing completely. Gabriel was still standing in front of them and Sandalphon was guarding the door.

“As you see,” Gabriel said, pocketing the crystal ball, “Aziraphale and Crowley have chosen to abandon their responsibilities again so there is no hope of a rescue.”

That didn’t sound right to Warlock, but he was too busy trying to process what he had just seen for the words to sink in. _Why should they come?_ Warlock thought, _I abandoned them._

Thank god that Adam was less affected by the vision. “What are you talking about?” he said. “They just refused to join your side which means they will rescue us.”

Gabriel glared at Adam. “Whatever they do, it doesn’t matter,” he said and Warlock could now recognise the manipulation as Gabriel said the next part with a large amount of pity in his voice. “They can’t find you. No one knows where you are.”

“Where are we?” Warlock asked and Gabriel looked at him in surprise as he suddenly spoke up. “Are we in America or Britain?”

“Not that it matters to you,” Gabriel said, “but we’re still in America. It was easier to take both of you once Adam had snuck off and the two of you were away from any outside forces.”

Warlock glanced to the side to look at Adam. Why would he sneak off to be in America? As far as Warlock knew, Adam had never wanted to leave the country.

“Well,” Gabriel said as if he was starting the closing remarks of a business meeting, “I’ll come back later and see if you’re more agreeable then.”

He left, and Sandalphon closed the door behind them both. Warlock heard the metal bolt slinging back into place and, suddenly, he was once again alone with Adam.

Adam, who still hadn’t let go of his arm, asked, “Will anyone have noticed that you were kidnapped?”

“I don’t know,” Warlock said, pulling his arm out of Adam's grip and whirling around to glare at him, “does anyone know that you're in America?”

Adam froze. He looked away from Warlock’s eyes and focussed his gaze on the floor. “Pepper maybe,” he said. “She gave me the idea anyway.”

“She told you to come here?” Warlock asked, incredulous. That did not sound like her.

“More like she told me to apologise to you,” Adam said, still looking at the floor. “And I know that apologies are better in person sooo…” He trailed off and glanced up at Warlock hopefully.

“You wanted to apologise?” It wasn’t unheard of for Adam to say sorry but it was a rare occurrence.

Adam must have heard Warlock’s tone softening. “Yeah,” he said. “For what happened on our birthday and then Christmas.”

“Christmas?” Warlock asked. “I know you invited Crowley and Aziraphale but what do you have to apologise for?” Yeah, Christmas was a terrible time but that was one of the few things warlock never fully blamed on Adam.

Adam’s confession came out in a rush, as if he wanted to get all the information out in the open so there was no misunderstanding. Warlock was thankful for that because, if he had hesitated at any point, Warlock would have started crying.

“I invited them, yes, to send you a message. A good one, I promise. I just wanted to show you that you belong with us. That Crowley and Aziraphale are your family, that we’re you’re family. Like, who cares who's your biological parents actually are? But then you left and I was really confused and angry. At you and at myself. I should have realised that it was my fault sooner.”

“Pepper had a go at you didn’t she?” Warlock laughed slightly, feeling much lighter than he had done in months despite the whole kidnapping thing.

“Yeah,” Adam said, scratching the back of his neck and laughing along. “She even whacked me around the head to ‘force my brain to recalibrate and work properly’.”

They both slowly stopped laughing and stood there in comfortable silence when it had died off. Warlock wanted to stay in that moment but another doubt forced itself into the front of his mind.

“Why?” he started and immediately wanted to stop but Adam was now looking at him expectantly with a smile on his face. “Why would you care that much to do all of that?”

Adam’s smile fell and he looked puzzled. “I like you of course,” he said as if was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You like me?” Warlock asked, “As a friend or…” He couldn't say it but he knew that Adam would understand what he meant.

“More than a friend,” Adam said. His cheeks turned red slightly as he continued, “I have for a while now and that’s why I would get annoyed whenever you couldn’t visit.”

“Right,” Warlock said. Honestly, this was turning more and more into a dream: first the kidnapping and then this. How was any of it real?

For the first time ever, Adam looked very nervous. “Uh,” he said. He ran his fingers through his hair and had to yank them out when they got stuck in the curls. “Do you, you know, like me back?”

“I don’t know,” Warlock said. “I need to think.” That seemed like the safest option: he liked Adam, obviously, but Warlock had made a lot of rash decisions lately and he couldn’t go into this without thinking about it and being sure. He’d have an answer later.

Of course, there might not be a later. They were currently being held hostage after all.

“Okay,” Adam said, surprisingly agreeing rather easily. Though Warlock guessed, he had matured a lot from the eleven year old who wanted to completely control his friends.

“Okay,” Warlock said.

They lapsed into a slightly awkward silence after that for a few minutes until warlock turned towards the door and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

“Do you think we can escape?”

Adam didn’t answer straight away and Warlock felt any hope he had wither slightly.

“Maybe,” Adam said, “but I’m not sure how.”

Still facing the door, Warlock sat down on the floor and gestured for Adam to join him.

“I doubt we can force our way out,” Warlock said, saying his thought process out loud for Adam’s benefit. “With the door open or not, there is always a guard or something in the way. Maybe if we trick them or something…” A thought dawned on Warlock and he spun round to face Adam.

“Wait, do you still have your powers?”

Warlock had been wondering this for a while; Adam had never used his powers recently as far as Warlock knew, but, then again, Warlock had never fully understood his powers. Could Adam just want to leave and then they’ll be able to?

“No, not fully,” Adam said. “Only in the woods really.”

“What do you mean?”

Adam sighed and looked wistfully at the door, “Tadfield has been the only place I really care about,” he said, “and the people in it. It brought me back from the brink of recklessly destroying everything. So, the woods are like an extension of myself. I feel more at peace there with everyone I love, especially during the summer when you visit.”

“That makes sense,” Warlock said. “Tadfield still gets perfect weather, doesn’t it?”

Adam laughed. “Sixteen years running,” he said, “My dad thinks it’s really weird and complains that he never got the perfect white Christmas as a kid.”

An idea struck Warlock; it was probably not possible but it wouldn’t hurt to at least suggest it. “What if you, like, pretended you were in the woods?” he asked. It wasn’t the best plan, especially considering the stark white walls that surrounded them. “You might be able to use your powers,” Warlock added. “Change reality so the door is unlocked or something.”

Adam’s expression lit up. “It’s crazy enough to work,” he said.

Warlock watched in silence as Adam closed his eyes and breathed slowly. There was a subtle shift in the air and Warlock felt a faint fresh breeze. He could almost picture the woods in his mind: the sunlit paths, tall trees and earthy smell that was ingrained in his nose. Faintly, Warlock thought he heard someone’s laughter. His hopes, for a second, rose, but they were quickly dashed because, as soon as the breeze appeared, it went away again and left the stale air of the cell behind.

Looking over at Adam, Warlock noticed how his eyebrows were now scrunched up in frustration and his shoulders were tense. He was trying to force the woods back but Warlock could tell that it wasn’t going to work now.

“Adam,” he called but Adam ignored him. Annoyed, Warlock reached over and shook his shoulder while shouting Adam’s name louder. That forced Adam back into the present and he opened his eyes to glare at Warlock.

“What?” he snapped, “I’m trying to get it to work so we can get out of here.”

Taking a deep breath so he didn’t snap back, Warlock asked, as calmly as he could, “What happened? I felt it working one second and then it stopped the next.”

Adam stood up and gestured angrily at the blank white walls and floor, “This is nothing like the woods, okay? How can I bring the woods here fully if there’s nothing.” He paced around like a caged lion, desperate to get out and back to the wild, to its home.

“The woods are your home, right?” Warlock said, trying a different angle. “Just make this place feel like home. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be enough.”

“How?” Adam shouted, “How on earth am I meant to make a place like this feel like home.”

Somehow, it might have been the adrenaline and helplessness, Warlock got to his feet without realising and started to shout as well. “Just one thing. You only need one thing for a place to be home,” he continued loudly, trying to get Adam to listen, “It could be a person, or a pet or your favourite pillow.”

Adam fell silent and stared at him, breathing heavy. “It doesn't have to be perfect,” Warlock implored. “Home never really is. Just focus on one thing that can make anywhere feel like home.”

Warlock wasn’t sure if Adam had listened to a word he said. The tension from his body had dropped and he was focussed on Warlock, despite not saying a word. Minutes passed, and it was like Adam had slipped into a trance. Warlock tried to quash his worry, but he jumped when he heard the distinct sound of metal slide over metal. Moving between the door and Adam, who was still standing still and now looking at nothing, Warlock tried to prepare some excuse for why Adam had gone into what looked like a standing coma.

Slowly, the door slid open to reveal no one standing behind it.

“Did it work?” Adam asked from behind him. His voice sounded noticeably weaker and Warlock spun around and looked up to see Adam’s pale face.

“Yeah,” Warlock said, “It worked. But are you alright?”

“Of course,” Adam said and he tried to walk towards the door but he stumbled immediately. Warlock caught his arm before he fell to the floor.

“Okay, you’re not, but we don’t have time to deal with that.” Warlock pulled Adam’s arm over his shoulders and made Adam lean on him. “Let’s hope no one is out there,” Warlock said as he walked out of the door with Adam draped on him.

The hallway had the same oppressive white walls but it was thankfully empty. Unfortunately, it stretched both left and right and each end had a corner Warlock couldn’t see around. It would be a fifty-fifty guess which way led to the exit.

“Left or right?” Warlock asked, but he only got a groan in response.

He went right; it was slow progress but they eventually made it to the corner. Peering around, Warlock saw another empty hallway, but this time it lead to some stairs that went up.

“Come on,” he said out loud though he was mostly talking to himself at this point as Adam was barely conscious. “That’s probably the exit, we just have to get up there.”

Stumbling along, Warlock couldn’t help but count down roughly how many meters were left. Five, four, three, two, one… Warlock breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Getting up them was harder than walking on a level surface; Adam grumbled as Warlock pulled him up each step. It was only twenty steps, but it took forever to get to the top where another door was.

Warlock prayed that it would open easily, otherwise they had come this far for nothing. At least, Warlock noted, there was a handle so it could probably be opened from this side. Grabbing the handle, Warlock tried to keep his balance as he twisted it and pushed the door open. There was some resistance but it eventually gave and suddenly they were outside…

Where it was snowing.

They were in a forest and large piles of snow had built up around the trees and in front of the door they had just come from. A bitter wind froze his fingers and face. Warlock was glad that he was still wearing his jeans and coat from when he went outside with Mary, but Adam must have been freezing in his then t-shirt.

However, the cold air seemed to wake Adam up. Lifting his head, Adam looked around slowly and asked, “Where are we?” His voice sounded stronger than earlier, but it was raspy in the cold.

“I think we’re in the woods, near my house.” Warlock said. It did look vaguely familiar and it made sense: Adam was on his way to Warlock’s house and Warlock was taken from his own bedroom. Why would the angels and demons bother to transport them far away?

“It snowed,” Adam said, looking at the scene before them in confusion and wonder. “I love the snow.”

Adam’s mind was obviously still a bit hazy but it was so tempting just to stop for a minute. Getting Adam out of their prison was hard work and the air had cooled Warlock down so much that he felt himself relaxing.

An alarm from behind them pierced through Warlock’s daze and he shook Adam. Warlock hoped it would get him to concentrate. “We have to hurry,” he said and pulled Adam to the right and through the thickest clump of trees.

Adam tripped slightly but did his best to keep up. Warlock could feel the panic building in his chest; there was no way, especially with Adam like this, that they could run away.

Adam seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “We have to hide,” he said, “and sneak through later.”

Shouts erupted behind them and Warlock threw himself down behind a bush that was covered in snow. It covered them around three sides, but if anyone came from the front, they would be easy to spot.

Breathing heavily, Warlock slumped against Adam. The shouts faded slightly as their kidnappers went straight from the door (probably assuming that they would have taken the most direct route to freedom), and Warlock was so glad that he decided to go to the right. It should buy them some time.

Adam pressed his fingertips against his head and groaned. “Okay, okay,” he said as he massaged his temple, “I’m with it so what’s the plan?”

“Hide,” Warlock said, “and as soon as we know the coast is clear, we make a run for it.”

“Okay,” Adam said.

Long minutes passed and Warlock could feel the moisture slowly seeping through his clothes and the cold settling in his bones. They would have to move soon before they’re too weak, but Warlock didn’t want to be the one to first suggest it. Knowing his luck, he would say ‘get up’ just as an angel or demon came round the corner.

Just as his fingers started turning white, Warlock asked, “Do you think it's safe?”

“Yep, hopefully,” Adam said, forcing his words out through chattering teeth. It made Warlock feel instantly guilty for waiting so long.

Warlock pushed himself to his feet and looked around. He couldn’t see or hear anyone but that didn’t mean that they weren’t nearby. Holding his hand out to Adam, Warlock said, “Come on. We’ll get back to my house and call someone.”

Pulling himself up, Adam nodded in agreement and they started to walk through the forest. Each crunch of snow underfoot made Warlock tense as he expected to be heard but no one came. They made their way to the house in hopefully the right direction, because if they got lost now it was all over.

They might have been near or far, Warlock really wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter because they reached the edge of a clearing and froze at who they saw.

Crowley and Aziraphale stood in the middle of the clearing, facing off against Beelzebub and Gabriel and a group of demons and angels behind them (among the crowd, Warlock recognised Hastur and Sandalphon standing next to each other). It was so much like the airfield, except this time, humanity was outnumbered.

He and Adam were hidden by the trees’ shadows, thankfully not too far away so Warlock could hear every word they were saying.

“Where are they?” Crowley said. He sounded impatient so this probably wasn’t the first time he had asked this question.

“Strange,” Gabriel said, “That’s what we were going to ask you.”

Aziraphale smiled, “So, they’ve escaped? That’s good. I thought they would have.”

Pride bloomed in Warlock at Aziraphale’s words. At no point did Warlock really think they could escape.

“They haven’t gotten far,” Beelzebub said. “The woods are surrounded.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and said, “Really, I wonder how I missed them when we walked here from the house.”

They’ve been to the house, Warlock thought. His thoughts went to his mum, worried about whether she had noticed his disappearance and what she could be feeling.

Adam whispered, “Should we go over there or something? Talk them down like last time?”

Warlock looked at the hoard of demons and angels, all holding weapons and ready for war. “I don’t know if that’s possible,” he said. “They might just decide to fight whatever we do.”

“Then why all this pretense?” Adam asked. “Like, what’s the point?”

“Appearances,” Warlock said, and he should know. His father’s work (as far as Warlock understood from his rants) involved a lot of trying to find a reason for doing unreasonable things. His main role as a diplomat was convincing others that his plan was the right thing to do. “They’re like humans,” Warlock said, “They can’t go to war for no reason. It would be wrong.”

“They’re working together to start a war between them? It makes no sense.”

“What about Johnson?” Warlock said, trying to get Adam to understand. “You argue and fight with him all the time with barely any reason, but work together when you want something. This,” Warlock added, gesturing to the clearing, “is like that but on a larger, more destructive scale.”

“I guess,” Adam mumbled, clearly not wanting to admit that his conflicts and truces with Johnson were childish. “Doesn’t change the fact that we have to stop them.”

Shouting erupted from the clearing and Warlock focused on them just as Aziraphale pulled Crowley back. Gabriel was being held up by one of the angels behind him and his face had paled in fright.

“You touch him and I will destroy you,” Crowley shouted.

Gabriel stood up and waved away the assistance, though his hands were noticeably shaking. He opened his mouth to speak but Beelzebub interrupted, “Don’t you want to save at least one of them, Crowley. We don’t have to kill both as long as you say who the anti-Christ is. Once he is dead, we can have our war in another eleven years.”

“Without your interference,” Gabriel said.

“We will never give you that information,” Aziraphale said.

“Then you will die,” Beelzebub said, shrugging their shoulders. “And we will kill both.”

Panic was clawing at Warlock's throat; he had to do something but he didn’t know what. However, despite the threat, Crowley slipped out of Aziraphale’s hold on him and laughed. “How?” He said,” You’ve tried that already remember.”

The angels and demons obviously did remember because most shuffled a couple of steps back. Crowley grinned manically at their fear which seemed to make the crowd even more uneasy as they glanced around, looking for an exit.

Warlock was not reassured by this act; Gabriel, Beelzebub and a few others like Hastur did not back away. They had a plan, Warlock was certain of it.

“You may have survived hellfire or holy water,” Beelzebub said, “but you cannot possibly survive both.”

Gabriel gestured to someone behind him and two people came to the front of the group: a demon holding a small flame in his hands and an angel carrying a jug of water.

“Wouldn’t they just cancel each other out?” Crowley asked.

However, Warlock could see through his facade in the slight trembling of his fingers and how his skin became even paler. Aziraphale had gone completely still, much like Warlock as he was pretty sure that he wasn’t even breathing anymore.

No no no no, Warlock thought, the shouting in his head drowning out whatever Gabriel was saying. By his smug expression, he was probably already gloating.

The angel and demon carrying the water and fire stepped forwards, towards Aziraphale and Crowley. Warlock hadn’t a clue what to do, heaven and hell were doing everything to get their war and what could one human do to stop them? Warlock knew that he couldn’t do nothing.

“Stop,” he shouted and ran into the clearing. He was vaguely aware of the sound of snow crunching behind him which meant that Adam had followed. It wasn’t far to the centre of the clearing and Warlock stopped between his parents and the enemy.

“Stop,” he repeated, breathless. “Don’t kill them, I'll tell you everything.”

He forced himself to ignore Crowley behind him, who exclaimed in surprise when he first saw Warlock and was now urging him to stop, saying that he would sort it out.

“Get on with it then,” Beelzebub said.

Pulling his shoulders back, Warlock met their eyes and said, “I’m the antichrist.”


	8. Chapter 8

Warlock wasn’t sure where he was going with this but it succeeded in stopping everyone in their tracks; even Crowley fell silent behind him.

“Okay then,” Gabriel said, sounding disappointed as if he looked forward to killing everyone and starting again. “I guess that makes things easier.”

“Get on with it then,” Beelzebub said, “Or we’ll kill the traitors.”

Yeah, Warlock really had no idea what to do now.

Thankfully, Aziraphale spoke up, “How can he? There are no horsemen, or hellhound and we are nowhere near a place that can ignite political tensions.” Warlock saw some angels and demons shuffle uneasily at Aziraphale’s words.

Gabriel scoffed, “Those are unimportant now. The only thing that matters is the boy’s desire to take over the world.” He turned slightly as he spoke, addressing the restless crowd behind him.

“You know,” Crowley said, sensing weakness and exploiting it, “for those who were really concerned with the Great Plan, you don’t seem to care much about it now.”

That struck a nerve: several demons and angels looked up or down like they wanted to escape and go home.

Crowley continued, “And we know that you don’t really understand the Ineffable Plan either. So, are you just doing this out of a selfish desire to destroy everything? Are you really fine with maybe going against Her plan?”

“Enough,” Beelzebub said, “You were the ones who delayed the Great Plan. We are just trying to fix your mistakes.” They focussed again on Warlock and said, “I knew it would be you. You have your father’s aura.”

“Get on with it then,” Gabriel added.

Everyone was looking at Warlock, waiting to see what he would do next. Warlock wondered whether he was actually the Antichrist and if he could make the enemies disappear. That would be nice and simple. Frankly, Warlock just wanted to go home, back to Crowley’s flat in England.

Warlock didn’t know how he could make things happen, though.

“Uh,” he said, “I don’t think I can. I haven’t been able to, uh, to use my powers since the airfield. So, yeah.”

Damn, he was hoping to sound more confident than that.

“Why not?” Gabriel said. Warlock hoped he hadn’t gone back to the killing everyone idea.

“I disowned Satan as my father,” Warlock said, more confident now as he kinda knew what happened five years ago. All he had to do was tell some half -truths. “So, I probably can’t end the world anymore.”

The angels and demons definitely looked like they wanted to leave now; there was no way to start the apocalypse so the only option was to kill two children and two of their own. Demon or angel, that’s a tough decision.

Even Gabriel looked unsure because he could most likely sense the growing unease behind him. He shot Beelzebub a desperate look. Beelzebub was looking intently at Warlock. “You can’t disown your heritage.”

Warlock thought about his actual heritage (not the one he was pretending to have). If Crowley and Aziraphale hadn’t mistaken him for the anti-Christ, Warlock probably would have grown up to be an unhappy copy of his father. But, he got lucky… until he fucked up slightly.

“Yeah, I can,” he said.

Beelzebub sighed, “Well, I guess the only thing we can do is see what your father has to say about this.”

“My father?” For a second, Warlock forgot his ruse as he wondered what his father had to do with this because he was never involved in Warlock’s life.

He barely registered Crowley screaming behind him before the ground disappeared beneath him and he started falling.

*

Was time different in hell? It was common in fiction for other supernatural planes to run on faster or slower time, depending on what the plot demanded. Warlock fell, but he fell slowly which, unfortunately, gave him plenty of time to think.

Would Satan kill him immediately when he realised that Warlock wasn’t his son? If his body was already in hell when he died, would he stay there in the afterlife? Thoughts like that zipped around Warlock’s head. He remembered the airfield, when the world actually nearly ended, and how Satan was. Impossible to fight head on. On the way home, Crowley told him how he stopped time in a desperate attempt to win.

Suddenly, Warlock was thinking about how he would never see anyone again. His chest tightened in grief, but he hoped that they, at least, were safe.

Falling, falling, and still falling: was hell that far down? Warlock closed his eyes and let the tension drain from his body.

Goodbye, he thought just as there was a strong tugging sensation in his chest. He tried to ignore it, but it got stronger and more painful as it pulled him. Warlock opened his eyes, though it was pitch black and he couldn’t see anything, but he felt himself moving upwards and no longer falling into hell.

Rapidly, much faster than his fall, he was dragged upwards. Light gradually appeared until it was too bright and Warlock covered his face with his hands to shield himself. His movement stopped when he landed on something soft and wet.

Groaning, Warlock allowed someone to pull him up. He was pulled into a tight embrace; the person was much taller than him and held Warlock tightly. “Nanny,” Warlock whispered when his bearings finally returned to him. Nanny pulled him closer and Warlock threw his arms around him.

“Again,” Warlock heard Aziraphale say, “I really must suggest you leave.”

They’re still here, Warlock thought. He stayed hidden in Nanny’s embrace as worry clawed at him. What more can they do to make them go away?

“How did - what di - how?” Gabriel stammered. Warlock risked a glance behind him and saw Gabriel staring and pointing at him with a shaky finger. That image brought Warlock some vicious glee. Even Beelzebub was standing completely still in shock.

“Do you really want to test us - test me - anymore?” Nanny hissed. A couple of demons and angels discreetly fled by disappearing on the spot. Seeing others do it, more followed. Hastur looked at Crowley in complete terror, as this was the second or third time he had seen the man do something impossibly reckless, before he also ran away.

That left only Beelzebub and Gabriel with them in a snowy clearing that, in appearances, was the furthest thing from the airbase even though they felt the same.

Nanny looked at them with disgust and asked, “Are you brave or stupid?”

Gabriel shifted slightly. “This isn’t over,” he said.

“Yes it is,” Aziraphale said and Gabriel disappeared in a flash of light.

“You are a disgrace of a demon, Crawly,” Beelzebub said as the ground started to open beneath their feet. “You always were.”

“I’m quite proud of that fact actually,” Nanny said just as Beelzebub fell back towards hell.

Silence settled over everyone; Warlock looked around to see Adam standing behind them. He and Warlock were now shivering violently enough as the adrenaline wore off that nanny and Aziraphale immediately took notice.

“Let’s get you two inside,” Aziraphale said.

“My house isn’t far,” Warlock said, “we can go there if you know the way.”

Nanny nodded. “Good idea,” he said. He snapped his fingers and suddenly they were on the front door step.

Warlock stumbled forward slightly as he reached to open the door. He pushed it open to find a lot of police officers and secret service members milling around and the sound of high-pitched wailing.

Nanny moved in front of Warlock and cleared his throat. “Is Mrs Dowling here? We have her son,” he said. Several officers spun round and stared in disbelief. Warlock noticed the maps in their hands, they must have been preparing to leave and search the woods soon. Obviously, they weren’t expecting him to show up on the doorstep with two strange British men and another boy his age. “Well?” Nanny added when no one answered him.

In the end, no one had to fetch his mum as she came rushing through. For the first time ever, Warlock saw his mum with her hair in disarray and smudged, day-old makeup. “Warlock,” she sobbed as she pulled him into a hug. She pulled back and picked at his clothes. “Oh god, you must be freezing.”

“I’m alright,” Warlock said softly. Fresh tears came to his mum’s eyes but she held them back as she turned towards Nanny.

“Uh, thank you...” she said.

“Nanny Ashtoreth, Mrs Dowling. Warlock contacted me when he ran away. I encouraged him to come back.”

Warlock watched as his mum’s face nearly crumpled before she reeled her emotions back in. She faced the officers and said, “Thank you, but, as you can see, I, fortunately, don’t need your assistance anymore.”

The four of them waited to the side as people filed out of the house. One of them handed his mum a card and said he would be following up tomorrow.

Once everyone had left, his mum took a deep breath before gesturing towards the kitchen. “Why don’t us adults go… discuss things while you two get changed and warmed up?”

“Okay mum,” Warlock said and he got a faint smile in return. He tugged on Adam’s arm and led him upstairs.

“What do you think happens now?” Adam asked, forcing words through the shivering. They both made for a sorry sight with blue-tinged lips and dripping red noses.

“Talk about it later,” Warlock said as he dashed into his bedroom to grab two sets of pyjamas (they would be a bit small on Adam but at least they would be warm). “Shower first.”

He let Adam use his bathroom and went into his parents’. Under the warm spray of water, Warlock felt his body slowly return to a normal temperature. He spent roughly fifteen minutes in there and would have spent longer if he wasn’t worried about Adam.

He found Adam in his bedroom, looking much better now that he wasn’t half-frozen. The pyjama bottoms reached only halfway down his shins. There was now some colour in his cheeks, but his fingers that held a blanket around him were still white.

“Hey,” Warlock said feeling unsure.

“Hey,” Adam returned with a slight smile.

Warlock glanced at the door behind him, “I hope I can come home with you guys,” he said.

“Of course you can,” Adam said with his usual stubbornness. “I bet that’s what Nanny is sorting out right now with your mum.”

“Oh god,” Warlock said. He wondered how his mum was taking everything, especially his disappearance. No one had mentioned his father so that must have been so hard to handle alone. “I have to check on her.”

“I think she’s more concerned about you but okay,” Adam said as he followed Warlock downstairs. He kept the blanket around his shoulders though despite the house being well heated.

They found them sitting around the kitchen table drinking tea. Aziraphale pushed over two cups when they entered and Warlock gladly sat down and started downing the warm drink.

“How are you two feeling?” His mum said, “Do you need anything?” Her walls must have finally fallen as there were tear tracks on her face and her mascara was more smudged than earlier.

“No, we’re good mum,” Warlock said, matching his mum’s soft tone.

Nanny leaned forward and said, “I was just explaining to your mother dear, that we believe it’s best if you move back in with us.”

His mum nodded, “I agree. It’s the right thing.”

“Mum-”

“No Warlock,” his mum interrupted firmly. “You’re not happy here; even your father noticed that you’re more subdued than usual. You should go home tomorrow, as soon as possible, she continued with a smile, “We’ll sort out your return to your public school for you.”

“You knew,” Warlock said surprised.

His mum sniffled as she giggled, “Of course I knew. Now,” she said, standing up, “it’s been a long day and I’m sure we all need sleep.” She walked around the table and leaned down to hug Warlock. “Goodnight.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She pulled back and half- heartedly fixed his hair. “Just maybe visit more often, okay?”

“Okay,” he said and his mum left the room. He heard the stairs creak as she went upstairs.

“Right,” Aziraphale said. “I think we all have to talk before we go to bed.”

Warlock shifted nervously in his seat. Of course, logically, he knew there was a load to discuss.

“Yep,” Nanny said, “Mostly about how to keep you lot, and the world I guess, safe in the future.”

“They’re not going to try again are they?” Adam said. “Can’t they just accept that they’ve lost?”

Aziraphale winced. “They won’t try again any time soon,” he said. “I’m afraid that they’ve resolved to wait us out.”

Warlock inhaled sharply and said, “They’ll wait until Adam dies naturally and then a new anti-Christ will be born.”

In the end, Warlock thought, no one could stop them. Even if Aziraphale and Nanny prevented the next apocalypse, what about the next one? Or the one after? At one point, they’ll get unlucky or make a mistake and humanity will be destroyed anyway.

“Well,” Adam said, looking at Aziraphale and Nanny expectantly, “what’s your plan?”

“At some point,” Nanny said, “when you’re a bit older, we make you both immortal. As long as you live, the world will be safer.”

Immediately, as Warlock was still processing the words, Adam leant forward and asked, “Do we get wings?”

Aziraphale chuckled, “No dear boy, unfortunately, we cannot give you wings.”

Adam groaned but Warlock barely noticed. He met Nanny’s eyes and asked, “Why me as well? Only Adam needs to stay alive.”

“Dear,” Nanny said softly, “do you know the real reason I took you on your eleventh birthday?”

“To keep me safe,” Warlock said confused, “from the angels and demons who thought I was the anti-Christ.”

Nanny forced out a weak laugh, “Partly yes that was a reason. Even now, I can say that you need to become immortal because it will keep Adam’s cover and make it easier to keep both of you safe.” Nanny paused, obviously struggling to voice his feelings. Warlock wished he could get up and hug him but he felt frozen in shock and relief. Thankfully, Aziraphale grabbed his hand and Nanny was able to continue and said, “But the main reason is that demons are very selfish creatures. You were my son, and always will be my son.”

Sobs finally broke past the lump in Warlock’s throat and he rushed around the table and threw himself into Nanny’s lap. For several minutes, he clung to Nanny. During that time, Aziraphale patted his back and said, “Angels are selfish too,” which made Warlock start another round of sobbing. Eventually, some of his composure returned and he sat up. In the back of his mind, he realised Adam was still there but Warlock felt too light with relief and happiness that he wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed.

“Of course, we’ll wait to you’re a bit older,” Nanny said. “You can’t do much if you look like a child.”

“Of course,” Warlock said softly, but he already knew what he would decide. He knew where he belonged, with Nanny and Aziraphale and Adam, (and probably the Them because Adam would never leave them behind, and Warlock didn’t want to either) and he wanted to stay there forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated - I would love to hear what you thought of the end to this series. The whole journey has been bloody fantastic!
> 
> I'm on tumblr @n1ghtt1me-stars if you want to say hi or chat. It would be great to talk to other writers/fans of good omens.
> 
> Thank you so much for the support throughout this series!


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